


Undercover Mounties

by Parker4131970



Category: due South
Genre: Cruise Ships, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 00:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14484096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/Parker4131970
Summary: Ben and Meg are asked to go undercover by an agent of the CSIS on an Alaskan cruise ship. It's close quarters for them.





	1. Chapter One

**Chicago, Illinois ...**

Ben stood outside the Canadian Consulate looking straight ahead, still as a statue. He'd been like that for four hours in the soggy, spring weather. His feet hurt and there was bird guano on the tip of his Stetson, but still, it was his duty and he'd never complain. He only had one more hour before it was Turnbull's shift at sentry duty. That thought alone kept him perfectly still. In the Mountie's periphery vision he saw someone he'd seen before but couldn't place, someone from Ottawa. Ben mentally shrugged, he had another hour of duty and doubted anything the man had for the Canadian Consulate's Chicago branch would involve him anyway.

Turnbull tapped on the Inspector's door, a pensive expression on his face.

"Sir, there's someone here to see you, an Agent Markham." The junior officer's voice conveyed his nervousness. Inspector Thatcher took a deep breath and fixed a look of cool professionalism on her face. She didn't feel like dealing with this before she'd had her coffee.

"Show him in, Constable, thank you." Inspector Thatcher answered promptly. Turnbull opened the door.

"Good morning, Inspector Thatcher." A tall man in a dark business suit greeted her, his credentials in hand. "I'm Agent Landon Markham, CISIS." The man's dark eyes narrowed as he surveyed the woman seated before him. He knew everything her RCMP file had to say about her as well as her parents, friends, co-workers and even her dead dog's veterinary records.

"I wasn't aware anyone was coming." Thatcher peered at the credentials she'd been handed, squinting at them after she shook his hand.

"Please, Inspector Thatcher, feel free to put on your prescription glasses." Markham seated himself on a chair across the desk from her. All Meg could do was glare at him as she pulled the offending spectacles out of her desk drawer.

"I can see you have the upper hand, Agent Markham. What's this about?" Meg handed him back his credentials. She studied the lean, featured man.

"If you'll call your subordinate officers into your office I can fill you in all at once." Markham leaned back against the teal blue chair and crossed his legs.

Meg raised one eyebrow before picking up the phone and telling Turnbull to collect Fraser. They waited a moment in silence, Markham's gaze drifting to the landscape painting off to his left. The way office's decorated spoke volumes about the character of Margaret Thatcher. It spoke of a confident, in control woman. She was the queen of the place and she knew it.

"You wanted to see us, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser stood straight and tall, his Stetson tucked beneath his arm.

"Agent Markham here will fill us in, all at once." Thatcher's voice dripped with sarcasm. The government agent let it slide.

"Thank you for your time, Inspector Thatcher. Your exemplary work is well known in Ottawa. What I'm here for today is to put you and one of your officers on a special, undercover assignment." He let the announcement sink in before continuing. "As you know, Canada's military strives to keep up with the rest of the world. One of our investments was found in a woman's purse three days ago." He pulled a photo from his briefcase and handed it to Thatcher. She gasped when she saw the remarkable resemblance between herself and the woman in the photo. "That is Candace Southerby, she's the personal secretary to Andrew Thornton, a software designer specializing in data storage. If he is successful in developing his latest brain child Canada's government will be able to put every file for an office this size on a chip the size of a pencil eraser." Turnbull's eyes widened in fascination. Thatcher expected him to say something at any moment.

"What would I and one of my officers have to do with this assignment, Agent Markham?" the Inspector asked, anxious.

"Candace Southerby and her husband, Benjamin, the bearded guy in the photo, were going to Alaska aboard a cruise ship to meet a contact to hand the plans off. She doesn't know what the contact looks like, only a code name--Alexander the Great. We need you to chose one of your officers to impersonate the couple. I'll be the agent running the show, back-up with another agent on the ship." Markham looked directly at the inspector, wondering if she were up to the task. Her record said she was but he had doubts. If he had to bet, he would have laid odds Thatcher would pick Fraser.

"When would I leave?" Inspector Thatcher asked, straightening her dark lavender suit jacket. She took one more look at the bearded guy in the photograph. With that mountain man bush covering the lower half of his face it could be anyone. If Candace Southerby was about Meg's height, then Fraser would be the better choice of the two constables.

"First thing tomorrow morning. I need your choice of officers within the hour to begin the paperwork." Markham watched as Thatcher looked between the two officers standing beside him, both quiet as church mice. Her gaze rested on Constable Benton Fraser, the senior of the two and from all accounts the more competent, though some would disagree.

"If you'll excuse us, I need to discuss this with Constables Turnbull and Fraser," Thatcher said, her voice strong despite the shaking inside her.

"That's fine, I need to find the lavatory anyway." Turnbull pointed him in the right direction down the hall.

"I volunteer for the assignment, Sir," Turnbull spoke when the room had cleared. Inspector Thatcher fixed her iciest stare on the junior Mountie.

"You look nothing like Benjamin Southerby, Constable Turnbull." The inspector pursed her lips. Turning to Fraser she said, "I won't ask you to go, Constable Fraser, it's your decision." Inside her stomach churned with both giddy anticipation and dread. Did he know that they would be in close quarters until this was over?

"Inspector Thatcher, I don't feel that I would be an asset undercover," Constable Fraser began, his thumbnail smoothing his eyebrow. She could feel the tension rolling off of him. Ben knew that if he met her eyes he'd cave in.

"I understand your hesitation, Constable Fraser. Deceit isn't one of your strong suits." Thatcher stopped cold, what could she say that wouldn't sound like begging? She crossed her arms, taking a deep breath. "I wouldn't want you to feel responsible for my personal safety." Meg hated playing the female card, but she had to regardless. Fraser's gaze raised, his chin still down.

"This Benjamin Southerby does bear a passable resemblance to myself. Perhaps I could be of assistance." Fraser groaned inwardly, this was his worst nightmare.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Thatcher relaxed a fraction.

****

Markham smirked when he heard that Thatcher had coerced Constable Fraser into going undercover with her. The agent's dark eyes studied the pair, and what an odd pair they were. Inspector Margaret "Meg" Thatcher was a career woman, attaining her rank by age thirty-one. She'd either charmed or bullied her way through the ranks. Her record spoke of an intelligent, well motivated woman. Constable Benton Fraser on the other hand, while equally as intelligent and motivated, did things more by his own rule book. He'd been exiled to Chicago after turning in a fellow officer for the murder of Robert Fraser, his father, legendary Mountie and for embarrassing the Canadian government. While in Chicago he'd managed to garner an unofficial partner in Detective Ray Vecchio, allies in the twenty-seventh precinct and among the city's citizens. Fraser and Thatcher seemed ill at ease with each other.

"Alright, I'll get the ball rolling on visas, identification and cruise tickets." Markham pulled out a sheaf of paperwork from his briefcase.

"Constable Turnbull will assist you with anything you need, Agent Markham," Inspector Thatcher offered, feeling like she was being run out of her own office.

****

"Good evening, Ray." Fraser came with his hat in his hand, literally, Dief in tow. The Italian descendant detective looked up from the never ending pile of paperwork camped out on his desk.

"Hey, Benny. What's up? I hear Welsh had a phone call from the mother ship about you this morning." Ray leaned back in his office chair. The Mountie gave him a hang-dog look.

"I've been given an assignment that's going to take me out of town for a week or two, Ray. I was wondering if I could persuade you to watch Diefenbaker for me while I'm gone?" The Mountie gave him his best beggar's expression.

"Ah, nah, Benny, that wolf of yours chews through everything in my place. Last time I kept him overnight he destroyed three pair of my best dress shoes," Ray began whining.

"He needs to stay with someone who knows him, Ray. Please?" Fraser tried again.

"I'll take him for you, Fraser." Frannie interjected, popping her chewing gum as she sauntered into the conversation.

"Frannie, you can't even keep a goldfish alive. You had five hamsters when we were kids," Ray protested. Sometimes Ray could strangle his younger sister.

"You were the reason all my hamsters died, Ray." She stabbed her brother's shoulder with a sharp, manicured finger.

"Ouch, Frannie, are those Lee Press On's or knife blades?" Ray pulled her finger out of his flesh.

"Thank you, Francesca. I'd much appreciate it if you wouldn't feed him sweets." Dief groaned at that sentence. He was deaf, not clueless. Fraser always forbid sweets.

"Sure, no problem." Frannie smiled at the Mountie sweetly, perching on the corner of her brother's desk.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be, Frannie, gossiping at the water cooler or something?" Ray pulled a plastic ruler out of his desk and bent it backward, slapping Frannie's fanny with a loud,  _'snap'_.

"Ouch!" She jumped to her feet, dancing in pain. "That better not leave a blister, Raymond Vecchio or I'm gonna tell Ma about how Granny Mona's vase got broke." Frannie rubbed the offended area as she walked away from his desk. Fraser sat on the sideline with eyes wide open, innocent.

"When do you leave, Fraser?" Ray waved his sister's pain off as he returned to the topic.

"Tomorrow afternoon. I'll be at the consulate until time to leave." Ben stood up to leave.

"Come on, let me buy you dinner. I ain't goin home any time soon. Ma's going to be mad until further notice." The detective grabbed his suit jacket and caught up to the Mountie, Dief trotting along behind them.

*****


	2. Call Me by My Name

_**The Next Day …** _

Meg read the file Markham had given her on Candace Southerby. It detailed every aspect of her life; parents, birth records, medical records, finances, spending habits, everything imaginable. The lady Mountie wondered what had changed her life so drastically she'd be willing to betray her country. Then she wondered how she herself had turned out so differently. She paced the length of her desk, turning to look out the window. She'd sent Turnbull out to pick up her dry cleaning and to her favorite bakery, six blocks away, for jelly doughnuts, just to get rid of him.

RING, RING, RING! The phone pulled Meg out of her thoughts.

"Hello." She yanked the phone from it's cradle and answered. Markham's voice greeted her.

"Inspector Thatcher, are you ready to leave for the airport?" Agent Markham asked, his voice upbeat.

"No, not just yet. I'm waiting for Constable Turnbull to return." It was a flimsy sounding, stalling tactic.

"Alright, Inspector. Have you had time to read Candace Southerby's file?" Markham could hear the raised eyebrow over the phone line. He got the distinct impression she didn't appreciate his thoroughness.

"Yes, Agent Markham, I have. Is there anything else?" Inspector Thatcher's husky voice was edged with sarcasm. She gripped the telephone receiver tightly, wishing she had time to gather more information about this assignment.

"No. I'll be at the consulate in fifteen minutes." Markham cut the connection. Meg groused as she hung up the phone.

"Pardon me, Inspector Thatcher," Constable Fraser spoke after tapping on the door.

"Come in, Fraser." She tried to pull her anxiety back. He stepped in, dressed in jeans, a blue t-shirt beneath a blue flannel shirt. As many times as Meg had seen him in civilian clothes it always surprised her. "You should start calling me 'Candace'." She said stiffly.

"That will take some getting used to." Fraser toyed with his eyetooth using the tip of his tongue, his gaze steadily meeting hers.

"You get to keep 'Ben', as your name." A little venom crept into her tone.

"Jelly doughnuts and coffee, as you requested." Turnbull interrupted the beginning of an awkward moment. "a going away snack." The cheerful, junior officer's smile radiated brighter than a hundred watt light bulb.

"Thank you, Constable Turnbull." Inspector Thatcher took her coffee order before sitting down.

"Is there a coffee for me?" Markham breezed into the Inspector's office, a broad smile on his lean features. "I caught a break through traffic." He received a neutral glance from Fraser and a cold one from Inspector Thatcher.

"I hope both of you are ready to leave for the airport. Your flight leaves in forty-five minutes."

"Let me collect my things." Constable Fraser ducked out of the room and down the hall to his office. He took one, last look around the small space. He'd been stuck there for the last two years. Part of him dreaded this assignment. She'd tricked him into volunteering. It had taken Fraser half the night to realize that. Still, he had decided to volunteer and was therefore honor bound to go.

Quickly, Fraser grabbed his rucksack and closed the door behind him.

"I'm ready." Fraser dropped his rucksack beside the door of Inspector Thatcher's office. A similar sized duffel bag was already there.

"Good, my rental car is outside." Markham sipped from one of the coffee containers before pushing himself away from the desk where he'd been leaning.

"Oh, Inspector Thatcher, don't forget to wear the glasses." A devilish glint in the agent's eye shone through his professional demeanor. If looks could have killed, Meg Thatcher would have eviscerated Landon Markham. She pulled out a silver, wire rimmed pair of glasses from her purse and put them on.

"Remember to keep them on, Inspector. Candace Southerby is as blind as a bat without hers."

"I'll remember, Agent Markham," Inspector Thatcher replied crisply.

Agent Markham handed Ben and Meg their passports and other identification as they met a Gemini cab along an off ramp to the airport. The thin books were hot off the presses with the Mounties' substituted photographs.

"We aren't certain how closely Candace and her husband were being monitored. For that reason we'll have a taxi take you to the airport. It's a good thing that Candace Southerby has a cousin in Chicago to present a plausible reason for her three week absence from Maple Leaf Communication Systems."

"Her mother's sister Edna's daughter, Lilly," Fraser volunteered.

"Yes, Constable Fraser. I see you've studied the files." Markham grinned, for the world looking like a cartoon fox.

"My father always said, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Knowing the Southerbys' information readily will prevent errors." The studious Mountie explained. Meg gave him a narrow eyed, glare telling him to shut up.

"Here's where we part company. I'll see you again when we board the ship." Markham helped Thatcher load her duffel bag in the back of the taxi before getting back in his rental.

Alone at last, the undercover Mounties sat in silence for a moment in the taxi as they got under way. With a sigh, Meg pulled out her eye glasses and slipped them on. She hated the way she looked with glasses.

"There are several things we'll have to become accustomed to during this assignment," Fraser broke the silence.

"Yes, Ben, there is," she emphasized his name, looking at her reflection in the glass separating the front and back seats.

For a split second he wondered what her reaction would be if he called her 'Candy'. Fraser had to look out the window in order to hide the smirk on his face. At least 'Ben' didn't sound like a stripper's name.

**=) =) =) =)**

"O' Hare Airport, all out." The cab driver smiled at his passengers in the rear view mirror. The lady rolled her eyes and bailed out, her purse slung over one shoulder.

"Thank you kindly. What do we owe?" the gentleman asked with a polite smile.

"Don't worry about it, Markham took care of it." A tired shrug rolled the man's shoulders.

"Have a good day." Fraser started to reach up to secure his hat, until he realized he wasn't wearing it. He felt naked for a moment.

"Best of luck." A knowing smile and a cocked brow told Fraser the man had overheard what little conversation there had been in the back seat.

"Thank you." Ben nodded as he grabbed two suitcases and their bags from the trunk.  _I think I'll need it,_ he added mentally.

Meg reminded herself that her name was now 'Candace'. She chanted the name mentally as she waited in line to board. For the first time it sank in that she would be undercover, with Benton Fraser no less. She didn't know if she could do the job, not with him around for distraction.

"Candace," Came a familiar voice. Meg turned quickly, almost startled.

"Yes, Ben." She forced his name out. Why couldn't she force him out of her mind that easily?

"You've got my ticket and passport," Ben reminded him. Meg dug into her small purse for them.

"This is going to be a disaster." She fumed almost inaudibly.

"You answered when I called your name, that's a good start," Ben spoke in a quiet voice, taking the ticket and passport when she found them. He saw her clutch her purse strap to hide her shaking hand.

"Thank you, Ben." Meg said his name so stiffly. Why couldn't she say it as naturally as he said her name? Because calling him by his nickname was somewhere in a zone she'd forbidden herself to go into.

"Flight 815 for Vancouver now boarding at gate eighteen." A woman's voice prompted the Mounties to move toward their plane.

**Author's Note:**  Yeah, I've been watching Lost. I couldn't resist. 


	3. Personal Space

Meg envied Fraser his ability to walk into the airplane without any carry-on luggage. Her duffel bag was small but she still hated dragging it through the aisles and stuffing it into the overhead compartment.

"Allow me," Fraser offered when she began to draw back just to throw it in. Easily, he took the bag from her and situated it inside the dark space.

"Thank you, Ben." She adjusted her blouse and khaki slacks before taking the aisle seat.

"You're welcome, Candace." Ben noticed she winced slightly at the sound of her pseudonym. It was unfair that he got to keep his name. He wondered how to help her as he took his seat next to her.

"Oh bother, I forgot to get my book out of my duffel." She frowned as she stood up to retrieve it.

"You put it so far inside I can't reach it now," Meg groused. Ben had seen her tip toeing to reach, her fingers just shy of the strap. It revealed a sliver of her slim waistline where her shirt and slacks didn't meet. Ben's mind wandered into forbidden territory. Swallowing hard, he stood up too.

"Let me." He came a fraction of calling her 'Sir'." That would have looked odd for a married couple. Ben held the duffel as she unzipped the top and pulled out a worn copy of Daniel Defoe's  _Robinson Crusoe_.

Seated again, Meg pulled out a post-it note and began reading the old book. She'd read it five or six times since childhood but it never lost it's adventure for her.

"Ah, a wonderful classic. Have you read  _Robinson Crusoe_  before?" Ben asked, trying not to look out the passenger window as they prepared for take off.

"Yes, I have," Meg answered without looking up.

"Do you know the story behind the book?" Ben asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Yes, Ben, I do," Meg answered tightly.

" _Robinson Crusoe_ is widely considered the first novel," Ben began again, his teacher voice in full swing.

"Ben, did you know there was such a thing as personal space?" Meg growled at him just above a whisper.

"Pardon my intrusion, flying in a commercial plane makes me nervous," the Mountie responded, leaning toward the outside of the plane. Passengers began taking their seats around the cabin, some of them chatting with others, some settling in for a long flight.

"Me as well," Meg spoke to apologize. She put the post-it back in the book and handed it to Ben.

"What's this?" he asked, taking the book as he straightened up in his seat.

"For distraction." Meg pulled her purse onto her lap and pulled out an ink pen and a small puzzle book.

"Thank you kindly." Ben began the book at the beginning, with the introduction. Moving into the first chapter he noted the way the book felt. Some of the pages were crinkled from moisture, the text smudged. Other pages were dog-eared with whole passages underlined. He never suspected Meg Thatcher would read such a masculine book but the wear and tear told him she'd loved this book and for a long time. It was a narrow window into the woman he'd known for roughly two years. He found out something about her every day, usually something trivial.

The flight attendant stood at the front, droning on with instructions as Meg began her word search. This day was not going the best ever. She hated flying and had brought her favorite book along to comfort her, only to hand it over to Benton Fraser.

Meg thought she could take this time to get to know Ben a little better since they weren't technically superior and subordinate officers any more. That thought terrified her for some reason. What was she afraid of; rejection, abandonment, complicating their non-existent relationship, or that she might actually have a connection to the introverted Mountie seated beside her? If they did connect what would happen next? Meg could have went in circles all day with her questions. She just prayed that her distraction with Ben Fraser didn't get them killed.

Flight 815 landed in Vancouver's YVR Airport on schedule and with all passengers in their pre-flight conditions. Meg had fallen asleep somewhere beyond the Illinois state line, her head leaning on Ben's shoulder. He could smell her fabric softener and feel her hair against his cheek. Glad she had relaxed at last, Ben let her sleep as she pleased. He doubted she'd slept much the night before.

"Wake up." Ben nudged her as the flight attendant asked everyone to put away their trays. Meg didn't move a muscle.

"Wake up, Candace." The Mountie patted her hand as he said her new name. Meg simply turned in her seat and made herself more comfortable on Ben's shoulder. He sighed, he almost hated to wake her when she was curled so comfortably against him.

"Time to get up, Inspector Thatcher," he said quietly into her ear.

Meg jumped a mile when she heard his voice say her name.

"Oh, Con, ah, Ben, have we landed yet?" She ran her fingers through her long bob haircut and straightened her blouse.

"We're just about to." He looked out the passenger side window as the ground began to approach. Ben could almost smell his homeland as he looked out toward the distant horizon.

"I've missed it." He heard Meg's voice at his side. Turning, Ben found himself nose to nose with her as she leaned over to look out the window. He'd only ever been this close to her a few times, two of them on the same train ride. Meg's dark eyes flashed and her cheeks reddened before she leaned back. She remembered the train ride as well as Ben did.

"It is nice to be back, even for a short time," Ben said, looking back through the window.

After claiming their suitcases and Ben's backpack, the pair hailed a taxi and headed to their hotel. Both of them were glad to see the two story, cement structure a few miles from downtown. It wasn't four star but it was comfortable.

"Good evening," a short man with a severely receding bald spot greeted them at the front desk.

"There's a reservation for a Mr and Mrs Southerby," Meg answered, the name tasting funny on her tongue.

"Yes, here it is. Seems there's been a mistake booking. We don't have any single rooms free at the moment. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience." He searched the pair's faces, puzzled to see them relieved.

"We'll take a double, no trouble," Mrs Southerby responded quickly.

"I can adjust the charges to that of a single for your trouble." He turned to get the key and handed them each one. "Here it is, room 212. If you need anything let me know, I'm on duty until ten this evening."

"Thank you kindly," Ben spoke for the first time.

Inspector Meg Thatcher hesitated at the door of the hotel. There were two beds but the room was still small. It was decorated in the usual, dull wallpaper and sedate furniture. Floor to ceiling windows looked out onto the parking lot behind the hotel. It wasn't much of a view but the setting sun cast a beautiful, passionate glow on the tall grass and parked cars. Meg left the curtain open as she set her things down and began rummaging in her duffel for her personal things. She'd claimed the bed nearest the bathroom without saying a word.

Ben was just as glad she had. He wanted to be near the window. He could see the mountains in the distance, their peaks perpetually covered in snow. Pulling Meg's book out of his inside jacket pocket, he tossed it on her bed without speaking. She'd been unusually quiet since landing at the airport. Meg hadn't even noticed when he over-tipped the cab driver outside the hotel. He hoped this wasn't going to be the way she acted around him the whole assignment or it was going to be a chilly cruise to Alaska.

_GRRRRRrrrrr_ Meg's stomach roared as she zipped her bag up. She hadn't had anything to eat except for a doughnut and coffee at the consulate.

"I know a quaint place a few blocks away if you'd like to get a bite to eat," Ben suggested casually. Meg looked up at him for a moment, a frown on her lips.

"Just let me freshen up first." She hitched her thumb toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later Meg stepped out of the bathroom looking refreshed. She'd brushed through her dark hair and re-touched her make-up.

"Lead the way, Ben." Meg pulled her small purse onto her shoulder as she waited for the Mountie to take action. He turned to look for his Stetson and realized he wouldn't be wearing it for a while. The sensation of being naked struck again. Ben ran his fingers through his short hair with a shrug. He'd just have to deal with his feelings of vulnerability.

 ****


	4. Boarding Ship

Burroughs' Bistro was an out of the way place off of the main drag. It seated maybe thirty people and did more carry-out business than eat-in. Fraser had found it as a young RCMP officer. He'd liked the friendly service and good food. It had been more than a few years since he'd been there and hoped that Digger Burroughs still ran it the same as he always had.

"Hello. Come in, have a seat. I don't get many customers this time of evening. The lunch rush is my bread and butter." A big man with an apron tied around his girth and sleeves rolled up greeted them. The small eatery had only two other patrons and one of them was talking to the waitress as she took a break.

Ben chose a booth half way along the left wall and slid across the black, leather seat facing the door. Meg slid in opposite him. She hadn't been any more communicative on the walk over from the hotel. Ben knew something was wrong when she hadn't insisted they take a cab.

"What can I get you to drink, coffee, iced tea, soda, maybe a milk shake for the lady?" the big restaurateur asked after setting down two menus, an order pad in one hand and a pen buried in his big hand. Meg looked up at him, a smile trying to pull up one side of her lips.

"What flavors do you have?" She took one of the menus but didn't look at it.

"Oh, the usual, strawberry, banana, chocolate, vanilla, and our specialty, peanut butter." He grinned at her, his thick, dark brows wiggling like woolly worms.

"I'll have a peanut butter shake and a grilled chicken sandwich hold the mayo and extra tomato." Ben's eyes widened.

"Remember your peanut allergy, Candace," he spoke up trying to signal her. Meg sighed, she hadn't had a peanut butter milk shake in ages.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, and I can't have strawberry either. Make it a chocolate milkshake." She glared at him for a moment. Ben gave her an innocent shrug.

"And for the gentleman?" Burroughs asked flipping the order pad page. He had seen the exchange between the two but didn't say anything, it was none of his business.

"I'll have a vanilla milkshake and a roast beef short order." Meg looked at him, puzzled. She'd never heard of short order.

"Green beans or peas?" the big man asked.

"Green beans," Ben answered before handing back the menu.

"Short order?" Meg asked as the restaurateur shuffled back to the kitchen to fix their orders himself.

"They put roast beef between mashed potatoes covered with toast and all of it smothered in brown gravy," the Mountie answered, talking as much with his hands as he did with his words.

"Ugg, sounds like a case of heartburn waiting to me." Meg wrinkled her nose at his dinner order. Ben waved her pessimism away. It sounded like heaven to him. The sound of the milkshake blender spinning drown out anything Ben had to say.

"Here you go, one vanilla, one chocolate milkshake. I'll bring your dinners out in a moment, the chicken is grilling as we speak." Burroughs set the tall, frosty glasses on the Formica table top between them with a smile. He received two, polite smiles in return.

"I wasn't aware you were allergic to strawberries." Ben nearly called her 'Inspector' again.

"Not actual strawberries, the red food dye." She caught the hitch in his sentence and tried not to smirk. "You aren't allergic to anything, are you." Meg remembered as she began sipping the tall, smooth milkshake.

"No, not that I'm aware of." Ben waved his left hand, his watch reflecting the light.

"You aren't wearing your ring," Meg pointed out, pursing her lips, secretly glad she wasn't the only one who hadn't remembered something.

"Oh, yes, I put it in my pocket in the wash room." Ben dug the thick, gold band out of his jeans pocket and slid it on.

"What about that watch?" Meg pointed to the RCMP issue watch his father had left him.

"Hmm, I'll have to send it to, ah, back to the house in the morning before we board the ship." He slipped the watch in his leather jacket pocket as it lay on the seat beside him.

"You should get a cheap one somewhere, you have a tan line." Meg tapped his wrist before she thought. Ben's eyes widened.

"Grilled chicken sandwich for the lady, extra tomato, no mayo. For the gentleman, a roast beef short order." Burroughs set their dinner orders on the table and stepped back to survey their reactions.

"It smells wonderful, thank you kindly." Ben pulled his fork from the set wrapped in a paper napkin. One bite and the Mountie thought he'd gone to culinary heaven.

"This chicken is great, it's so juicy," Meg agreed, pleased.

"Thank you both. Let me know if you need anything." The big man stepped back before turning to leave, a huge smile on his face. He loved seeing the positive reactions to his food.

"I'm glad you suggested this place, Ben," Meg finally said his name without sounding like it tasted sour.

"I'm glad you approve," His lips pressed together, ready to say 'Meg'. He didn't want to call her 'Candace' either, so he didn't call her anything.

Meg heard the hitch in his voice again and saw the indecision in his eyes as she looked up from her plate. She was glad he let the sentence end where he had, with no address.

For a while they both ate in silence, enjoying their dinners as the city passed by outside. For a brief moment they were just two people having a meal together, no rules or regulations to separate them.

****

Agent Markham waited outside the dock, ticket in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He'd called the cell he'd given Inspector Thatcher at five that morning to go over a few, last minute details. Now it was four hours later and he was waiting on his female partner from CSIS to arrive.

Maria McLeod was a tall, lean woman with pale blue eyes and freckles beneath her reddish-brown hair. She looked like a woman who could handle a .9 mm handgun with ease. Markham had worked with her before and knew how lethal she could be. Expertise in judo and hours in kick boxing classes kept her in top form. Markham would have made a play for that form, except for the judo, kick boxing and the .9mm, all of which he knew she'd use on him if he tried anything.

"So, where are the ones from Chicago?" McLeod demanded, dropping her bag at Markham's feet. Dressed in a black turtleneck and dark brown corduroy pants, she cut quite a figure.

"Hello, Maria, I'm fine, how are you?" Markham grinned as he stood there, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into this slacks' pocket.

"Are they here yet or what?" the lethal Scot demanded, crossing her arms.

"They're boarding as we speak. I talked to both of them earlier, filled them in on what came over the wire last night," Markham answered, his tone annoyed.

"Good, let's get our boarding out of the way. I'm not anxious to send the next several days on this tub." She swung her bag up on her shoulder and took off toward one of the porters assisting passengers.

"Mr and Mrs Southerby, this is your cabin. I'm Kyle. I'll be your day porter during your stay aboard the _Alaskan Queen._ I hope you have a nice, second honeymoon. Here's a listing of activities and meals." The cheerful, young man ushered Ben and Meg into the room. A row of large, round windows showed the water outside, several feet below.

Looking around the cabin, Meg noted that there was only one, large bed in the center of the room. A hunter green comforter set with gold circles covered the place. She also noted that there was a sofa off to one side, also a hunter green. Rich, pine paneling lined the walls. An ocean scene hung securely bolted to the wall above the television, also bolted down. A large fruit basket sat beside it, a ribbon emblazoned with "Welcome" on it covering the rose colored, cellophane wrapper.

"Thank you, uh, Kyle. I'll take my things." Meg took her suitcase from his hand and lugged it to the bed, in effect claiming it for herself.

"Thank you kindly. We'll take it from here." Ben motioned for the young man to scoot his suitcase off to the side.

"Have a good day." He waited until Ben slipped him a five to smile and retreat.

"One bed," Meg began as soon as the door was closed. "I didn't anticipate that." She put her hands on her hips as she studied Fraser. "Coin toss or rock, paper, scissors?" Meg suggested.

"Neither is necessary, Sir. I'll be fine on the couch." Ben waved her off, pulling his bedroll from the top of the suitcase.

"Ah, you  _had_  anticipated this." Meg felt kind of silly, if anyone would anticipate this, it would be Fraser.

"Yes, I'm surprised you hadn't." Ben set his suitcase next to the couch and pulled his leather jacket off.

"I was rather busy studying." Meg had to stop herself from saying 'Candace Southerby's file'. Somewhere on the ship was the contact she was scheduled to meet at the end of the cruise.

"I see your point," Ben acknowledged.

For the next few minutes they both busied themselves putting their things away in the dresser and investigating the cabin. No one knew who the buyer's agent was or when he'd make his play. Both Mounties had to be hyper-vigilant when not in their cabin, and the cabin was the last place they were supposed to be. Markham wanted them taking pictures and meeting people as much as possible so that they could identify the buying agent before they reached Alaska, hopefully with as little fuss as possible. Being tourists was a great excuse to take a ton of pictures.

"Everyone, please assemble on deck for a mandatory emergency preparedness drill. Thank you." An authoritative, male voice came over the loud speaker as Meg finished putting her delicates in the top dresser drawer while Ben stowed his shaving kit in the bathroom.

"That's our cue, Ben." Meg pushed her glasses up on her nose and gave him a weary glance.

"We'll do fine, Candace," he reassured her as he checked his wedding band and double checked that he had the room key.

"Let's go." Meg took a deep breath before opening the door and joining the throng of people. Swept into the flock, she felt someone take her hand. Turning back, she saw Ben. She felt better having him in sight and it showed. The Mountie could see the relief and thankfulness in her dark brown eyes a moment before she started pulling him along the passage way.

Porters ushered people along their way to the mandatory assembly above decks. Nearly seven hundred people had gathered around as Captain Jacob Matthews stood patiently, waiting for everyone to quieten down. His officers stood nearby, smiling but bored.

"Welcome to the  _Alaskan Queen._  I've gathered you here for a mandatory emergency drill …" The captain, a man in his fifties, droned on while Meg and Ben began looking at the people assembled around them. The first one they found was Markham. He nodded solemnly at Fraser and winked at Meg.

"I don't like that guy for some reason, he's oily," the lady Mountie said through a smile so he couldn't read her lips.

"I agree." Fraser's instincts told him to be wary of the agent.

As the captain droned on the Mounties began scanning the passengers' faces, trying to remember as many as possible. Fraser paid close attention to the officers standing alongside the captain.

"So far I see only couples and children," Meg lamented as she shielded her eyes. Wearing her prescription glasses, she could see far better than without them but they caused a slight glare in the direct sunlight.

"It may be anyone, a cook, a porter, an officer perhaps," Ben suggested in his manner of fact fashion.

"Polish your social skills, Ben, it looks like we're going to have to be the ship's social butterflies," Meg said with a groan. She could fell the Mountie beside her stiffen at the idea. The man was a walking instruction manual, but he was clueless how to make small talk.

"Oh dear," she heard him whisper.

****** 


	5. Setting Sail

As the emergency drill broke up, the passengers dispersing, Markham slipped Ben a note and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. As nonchalant as possible, the Mountie opened the slip of paper and read it.

_Meet me in room 118 in half an hour. ~Markham_

Meg leaned against the railing, looking out at the water and the mountains beyond. Her dark hair was pulled first one way then the other by the salty, ocean breeze. Ben leaned his back against the railing as well before handing the note off to her.

"Wonder what he wants?" Meg crumpled the paper up and shoved it down into her pocket to dispose of later.

"I'm certain he'll tell us in detail." The constable looked off toward the docks on the other side and the people working there, crawling like ants in the distance. A smile pulled at the lady Mountie's lips. It was the closest thing to annoyance she'd heard from Fraser.

Both of them checked their watches for the time before ambling along the railing, taking in the scenery.

_**Thirty minutes later …** _

Ben tapped on the cabin door then stepped back. Markham ushered them into his spacious quarters with one hand. "Come in, come in. Let me introduce Maria McLeod." The lean, mean agent sat on the bed fiddling with a camera. She looked up at the Mounties and a wide grin spread across her pretty face.

"Ms. McLeod, hello." The Mountie gave her a firm, polite handshake.

"Call me Maria." She extended a hand toward Ben first, holding his gaze. The cold in Meg's eyes could have frozen an ocean instantly.

"Maria, I'm Ben." When the agent extended her hand toward the lady Mountie all she received was a pissed-off expression for her efforts.

"Here's the latest intel we have about the passengers and crew. The crew's background is a little more complete, this cruise line checks them out thoroughly." Markham pulled a file from a suitcase on the bed and handed it to Meg. "How are the honeymooners enjoying their suite?" He couldn't help but use the barb.

"As well as can be expected," Meg answered coldly, not looking up from the thick file.

"Is there anything you need to pass along to the consulate back in Chicago, a personal message perhaps?" Maria inquired, rising to take a snap shot of Ben with the camera she'd loaded. The flash blinded him momentarily.

"No, thank you kindly." The constable rubbed his blue eyes, trying to restore some semblance of vision to them.

"Who is the most likely candidate?" Meg asked Markham, ignoring Maria's existence as the agent edged her way closer to Ben.

"This guy, Kyle Phillips. He's been in trouble before and his mother is in debt heavily, also, he has a history of gambling." Markham pointed to a post-it note attached to the picture of the young porter assigned to Ben and Meg's room.

"Who exactly is the buyer for the data storage device?" Ben asked, trying to remember if he'd read it already.

"We aren't certain. There are a few buyers in the market for such a thing. The device has many applications. It scans documents like a computer scanner, transmits either by being plugged into a special computer port or wirelessly, and all on a chip the size of a hearing aid battery. Such a device could be smuggled in innumerable ways. It would be nearly impossible to detect," the suave agent responded.

"Are the blueprints I have anything like the real device?" Meg asked, her finger tucked into the file.

"Just enough to convince the buyer," Markham assured her. "Take that file with you, find a creative spot to hide it." He showed her a duplicate file in his suitcase.

"We'll read through it and get it back to you as soon as possible, Agent Markham." Meg handed the file to Ben. The constable tucked it in the waist band of his slacks, against his back, and pulled his jacket over it.

"Talk to as many people aboard this tub as possible. You never know what someone might say that would give us the advantage." The agent smiled broadly.

"Alright, next stop lunch." Meg assured him, her eyes narrowed at the tall, lithe CSIS agent eyeing Ben like a prize thoroughbred at auction.

"Have a good afternoon," Ben wished them, his hands fiddling with the change in his pockets instead of his missing hat.

"Do you think they'll actually find the buyer before we get off this tub?" Maria asked after the door closed behind them.

"I don't know. Both of them have excellent service records." Markham shrugged.

"What do you think of Dudley Do-Right? Is he as good as his reputation?" The agent pulled at the belt loops of her corduroy pants, her mind no where near Ben's service record.

"He's certainly smarter than he looks." Markham sat down on the bed, his gaze far off.

"I'd like to Dudley his do-right. I bet he's good at that." Maria bit her bottom lip, wishing she could get up close and personal with Constable Benton Fraser. Markham chuckled, remembering the cold glare Meg had fixed on the competition. It was going to be an interesting assignment.

****

Back in their  _'honeymoon suite'_ , Ben and Meg both sat down on the bed out of habit. Ben sat at the foot while Meg threw herself down on the side.

"I suppose we should go to the dining room for lunch," Meg suggested, not really wanting to leave the room.

"Yes, we should," the Mountie agreed, his tone unenthusiastic as well. A thought began percolating in Meg's brain. She stood up and put her hand on her hip as she stared at the painting over the television.

"Ben, can we talk for a moment, about this …?" Her hands spread out to encompass the whole room, the whole situation. Puzzled and intrigued, he nodded.

"We've been put undercover as a married couple." He nodded again. "You and I don't act," Meg struggled for words, "we aren't comfortable, together, are we." He cocked his head just like a confused Diefenbaker. Meg's words were a question but her tone was a statement.

"Yes, there is a certain amount of, distance, between us." Ben hesitated, looking at his feet for a moment.

"Whoever the middleman is, they won't be convinced I'm Candace if you and I seem, 'distant', with each other. This is something we have to deal with if we're going to be successful." Meg watched as he tugged on his ear for a second, his gaze somewhere else. "We're playing parts, Ben," Meg tasted the short word on her tongue, wishing she could use it everyday. "Whatever there is between us, we left it in Chicago." She ran her hand through her silky hair as she waited for him to respond. Instead, Ben sat on the foot of the bed like a statue for a moment.

"We're playing parts?" He tilted his head a bit, a shrug in his voice. "I hadn't thought of it like that." Ben looked up at her, a grin pulling his full lips to one side. He stood up, his left hand in his jeans pocket, the other extended toward her.

"Hello, I'm Ben." He smiled at her, his usual, formal tone gone. Meg smiled back, more at ease.

"Ben, hello, I'm Meg but you can call me Candace." She took his hand in a firm, friendly handshake.

"I look forward to getting to know you." He nodded resolutely.

Relieved, Meg chuckled. "I look forward to getting to know you too." She thought to herself, Why couldn't we have done this a long time ago?

"I think we're heading the same direction for lunch?" Ben stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, I believe we are." Meg pulled a map of the ship from her purse and began searching for the dining area.

"I memorized that yesterday, before we boarded. I can get us there," Ben offered, his chin jutting out to indicate the dining room.

"Thank you, Ben." Meg folded the map up and slid it into her purse again.

"I'm ready when you are." Like an old world gentleman, Ben offered her his arm. With a smile, Meg laid her hand on his forearm.

Navigating a cruise ship was a bit like navigating a maze. Meg had learned how to navigate but she still had to stop and read the directions. Following Ben was a help. In only a few lefts and a right or two they were at the Violet Bovine, a replica of a small town, Americana restaurant. A sign with a purple, cartoon cow jumping over a quarter moon hung over the entrance. Music played from a jukebox in the corner. Dark purple, leather covered the booths and black tables trimmed in chrome glistened along the wall to the right. To the left sat the counter. Again, the purple and black décor, trimmed with chrome, persisted. Painted on the left wall was a mural of a herd of purple cattle resting in a lush field of green grass.

A few other passengers had found their way to the Violet Bovine. Two waitresses, busy ferrying meal orders and drinks, wore black slacks and purple t-shirts, with lavender and black ribbons in their ponytails.

"Good afternoon. What can I get you to drink?" a young, red head asked as she slipped two menus on the table. Ben ordered coffee while Meg contemplated ice tea verses coffee.

"A cup of coffee and a chicken strip platter, thank you." The Mountie handed the waitress back the menu and waited for Meg to respond. She scanned the menu, her glasses allowing her to read the fine print without squinting or having her nose against the lettering. Ben watched her reading, wishing she would wear her glasses instead of giving into her vanity.

"Unsweetened iced tea and a chicken strip basket as well, thanks." Meg handed the younger woman her menu and waited until she had left to speak again.

"Why were you watching me read the menu?" She met Ben's gaze, her voice low.

_I think you look cute in glasses,_ Crossed his mind. "Lost in thought I suppose." He avoided the truth. Had it been anyone else you could say he lied.

"I don't look like myself in these things do I?" Meg pulled the spectacles off her face and used a napkin to clean the lenses.

"You don't like them, do you?" Ben didn't answer the question. He'd learned a long time ago to avoid any questions asked about how a woman looked.

"No." Meg sighed, placing the wire frames back on her face. She caught Ben looking at her like that again, like he had a thousand things to say to her but didn't know where to begin. The Inspector was dying to know his thoughts, scared to know them at the same time.

"What would you look like with glasses on?" Meg handed him her glasses, challenging him. He raised one eye brow and slid them on his face.

"Ah, we have ourselves a Clark Kent." Meg smiled as she took the frames back.

"No, just a Mountie." Ben shrugged, leaning forward. Gently, he pushed the frames up on her nose. Meg wrinkled her nose, pushing them down again.

"Here is your coffee and here's your tea. Is there anything else I can get for you?" the waitress interrupted them. Feeling a little guilty, the pair sat back against the soft, leather seats.

"No, thank you." Meg smiled. She could still feel the soft touch of Ben's fingertips against her nose and cheeks. For a moment she felt a surge of hope, of possibility. She didn't feel alone at his side for once.

After lunch Ben and Meg spent a few hours exploring the ship, getting to know the lay of the land. Meg took the lead when they met other passengers. A few times she pretended that they were lost as a ruse to talk to the ship's crew they met. It was a good way to talk and to introduce herself as Candace Southerby. They went into every area they could that wasn't restricted to crew access.

By dinner time both Mounties were foot sore and hungry again. Ben had walked hundreds of miles in the course of his career, but twisting and turning inside the confines of a cruise ship tuckered him out. Meg too complained about not wearing the right kind of shoes.

After dinner, Ben suggested they take time off to see the sights the ship had to offer. He went to get their jackets and together they found a spot along the railing to look out over the dark Pacific ocean.

"It's beautiful," Meg breathed as she watched the sun begin to set. Cotton ball clouds in the distance painted with orange, red, yellow, gold, purple and gray, melded together like melting ice cream. Birds moved along the horizon, swooping down the catch fish before the darkness set in.

"It has been ages since I've seen the sunset like this." Ben breathed deeply, smelling the salty air and the crisp wind on his face, trying to free his nostrils of Chicago's aroma.

"Do you miss home, Ben?" Meg asked, her hands in her pockets.

"Everyday, yes." He turned away from the sunset to look at her. He could see the light of the sunset reflecting in her dark eyes.

"Do you?" He asked quietly, his gaze intense and probing.

"Sometimes, at night, when there are sirens and honking horns and I can't sleep because it's too noisy." Meg sighed, thinking back to her childhood and the small house outside the city her parents had owned when she was a girl.

They stayed on the deck until the last colors of the sunset had faded and Meg began to shiver. She breathed against her fingers to warm them and stamped her feet.

"Here, take these." Ben pulled out a pair of brown, jersey gloves from his leather jacket pockets and handed them to her.

"What about you, aren't your hands frozen?" She gladly slipped her hands into the cotton gloves.

"We should be going inside. It's an early morning tomorrow." He shook his head as he looked up to see the evening star shining down.

It had been a long day of snooping around the ship for the Mounties. By ten o'clock they were both ready for some sleep. Meg turned the bed down and pulled out her pajamas from the left side of the dresser. She looked forward to settling into the nice, comfy bed for the next seven or eight hours. It had been hard to keep her eyes open as they found their way back to the cabin.

Ben watched the reflection of his boss lady in the mirror above the dresser as she kicked her loafers off and threw back the bed covers. She seemed tired and more than a little stressed. He suspected this assignment wasn't the sole reason for her stress. Despite having made an agreement that they were acting a part, there was still distance between them. Ben hoped that it wasn't as detectable to the passengers as it was to him.

Meg emptied her pockets into her top dresser drawer before heading toward the restroom. There were a dozen things in her pockets; change, candy wrappers, a couple bobby pins, and a paper clip she didn't remember picking up. She just sighed, it was time for bed. The Inspector just hoped that she could get to sleep. Having Fraser only a few feet away was both comforting and disturbing.

It was comforting to know she wasn't alone. It soothed her to know that there was someone to help her, protect her if it came down to it. Ben was good at that, protection, help, safety. He was a solid, dependable presence in times of crisis.

His presence was also disturbing because she couldn't quite live up to her words of earlier. To pretend that they were something they weren't wasn't normal or easy. She wanted to be able to go to dinner with him and have a conversation about any topic that presented itself. She wanted to share experiences with Ben, like seeing a killer whale. She'd been 'Inspector Thatcher' for far too long.

By the time Meg had finished in the bathroom, Ben was laying beneath his blanket on the couch beneath the windows. Stars twinkled outside, sometimes obscured by fog rising off the water. He'd left the lamp beside the bed burning for her to see by, otherwise the cabin was dark.

"Do you have enough cover, Ben?" He heard her voice come through a long yawn. She turned off the lamp and scooted down into bed.

"Yes, thank you kindly. I'll be fine."

"Good night, Ben," Meg said softly as she nestled down into the warm, down comforter.

"Good night, Meg," Ben said a little wistfully. He scratched the back of his head as he lay on the padded arm of the couch, looking up at the white, stucco ceiling overhead. He heard the sound of the water against the hull of the ship as it slipped through the deep, Pacific waters. People on the other side of the wall were watching television, barely audible to the Mountie as he wondered how his parents lived with each other after weeks, sometimes months, apart.

Ben had just gotten comfortable, drifting off into oblivion, when he heard a thumb coming from the bed. Cries of distress and groans erupted from Meg as she fought something in her sleep.

"No, don't!" She groaned as she threw her arm out from beneath the comforter. Ben threw off his covers and knelt down beside the bed. Meg was flailing in bed, terrified of whatever her dreams held.

"Please, Mommy, please, don't leave!" she pleaded, tears falling from her eyes.

"Meg, wake up," Ben said sternly, turning on the bedside lamp. She only pulled away from the light. "Meg, wake up, everything is alright," he tried again, touching her cheek.

"Mom, please, don't go." With her fist clenched, Meg flailed in her sleep, connecting with Ben's face. He tasted blood after he bit his tongue and it felt like there would be a bruise the next day.

"Meg, wake up!" he growled, two fingers slapping against her face enough to get her attention. The Inspector's eyes fluttered open, focusing on the man kneeling beside her. Her fists were still clenched and she was breathing heavily.

"Who? What? I, oh dear." Meg watched as Ben tentatively touched a freshly opened split on his lip. She covered her mouth with both hands as she gathered herself together. It had been quite a while since she'd had that dream.

"Did I do that?" Meg pushed the comforter away, scooting to the edge of the bed beside him.

"It's nothing, I'm fine." Still, he winced as she touched it gently with a single finger tip.

"I'm sorry, Fraser," Meg whispered as she met his gaze. He waved her off, the other side of his mouth pulling into a smile. Ben saw the argument rising in her eyes as he stood back up and retreated to the couch, and the shadows.

"It's nothing, really," he assured her.

"Let me get a wet washcloth." Unconvinced, she brought him a cool cloth from the bathroom and sat down beside him on the couch. Meg noticed the way his red long johns fit his frame like a second skin as she fussed with his lip.

"I'm fine, thank you." He pushed her well meaning hands away after she pressed too hard. Guilty, Meg shrank back, still looking at him with the tracks of tears down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry I woke you, Fraser," she said stiffly, shuffling back to the bed and settled beneath the fluffy comforter.

Ben felt guilty too, pushing her away when all she wanted to do was fix something she'd caused. The shoe was on the other foot for a change. He grit his teeth and settled back into the couch cushions. This wasn't going well and he couldn't help but feel responsible.

**Author's Note:**  My boyfriend used to push my glasses up on my nose and it drove me gonzo, but it was a cute gesture to use here.

 


	6. The Russian

_**The Next Day …** _

Ben woke up to the sound of the cellular phone ringing on the dresser. He heard Meg roll out of bed and knock something to the floor fumbling for the device.

"Hello," she answered on the fourth ring.

"Good morning, Candace," Agent Markham's voice greeted her, an annoyingly cheerful tone making her want to punch him in the face.

"Markham, what do you want?" She ran her fingers through her hair, blinking as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. There were bags beneath her eyes and they were a little red from crying the night before.

"I called to see if you'd made contact with Kyle yesterday?" Markham went into business mode. Ben took a seat on the bed beside Meg, trying to hear the conversation.

"No, we didn't, we spent most of the day yesterday getting to know the ship." Meg glared at the phone as if the gesture would travel through the line.

"The sooner you establish who the middle man is the sooner we can track down the buyer."

"We're working on it, Agent Markham." Meg barely controlled her temper.

"See that you do, Inspector." The connection died abruptly in her ear.

"Who died and left you king, buster," Meg murmured as she shut the phone down. Turning, she didn't realize how close Ben had been sitting. She could see the swelling in his lip clearly.

"Oh, pardon me." The Mountie rose from the bed, his red long johns and gray, wool socks making Meg smile. She watched him in the mirror, gathering his pillow and covers to store them in the closet until that night. She shook her head, amazed at how corny he could be and how that endeared him to her. Silently, she pulled out her clothes for the day and headed into the bathroom.

"What do you think Markham's hidden agenda is on this assignment?" Ben's voice came from outside the bathroom door. For a moment Meg felt vulnerable, as if the bathroom door wasn't enough to hide her.

"I'm not certain. I do know he's in a hurry to find the buyer. Why, what do you have in mind?" She tugged on her slacks, wondering if there was something about Agent Markham she'd missed. His credentials were legitimate, that much she did know. That didn't mean that he didn't have more up his sleeve.

"Agent Markham isn't telling us everything he knows. I believe Agent McLeod knows more than she's telling as well." Meg could tell that Ben had given the whole matter quite a bit of thought. She'd been too distracted to think, having him so close. Fear seized her, she'd let her guard down. The potential danger shook her to her core.

"That's very insightful, Ben." Meg tried to sound casual as she fastened her blouse with shaking hands. If anything happened to him she'd never forgive herself, especially if she could have prevented it.

"Did you sleep well last night, after your nightmare?" the Mountie asked, examining his reflection when Meg walked out of the bathroom.

"Yes, eventually," the lady Mountie answered, wishing he would let the matter drop. Ben saw the way she turned her back to him, putting her laundry in the hamper inside the closet. He didn't feel it was right to pry further, so he kept silent.

"How is that?" Meg asked timidly, her fingers brushing Ben's chin. He looked down into her brown eyes a moment before answering.

"It's nothing, it will be gone in no time." He gave her a crooked, reassuring grin--a mistake. Stinging pain made the Mountie wince and hiss. Meg felt worse than he did about it. She pulled back, wringing her hands as she stepped away.

"It was an accident, Meg. Don't feel badly." Ben's voice came very near the woman's ear as she busied herself collecting her shoes and purse. Looking into the mirror, Meg saw him behind her, his gaze meeting hers as they stood close enough to touch. She felt his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently before he pulled away. She didn't want him to pull away.

The Mounties' first day at sea was uneventful. Breakfast was at a French cafe that served the best latte Meg had ever tasted. The pair ate in silence, unsettled by Meg's nightmare. Ben wracked his brain trying to think of a way to bridge the gap between them. He knew it would be difficult to distract her out of her melancholy. Ben hoped that something would shake her out of it.

"What is on the agenda for tomorrow?" Ben asked, trying to make conversation.

"Tomorrow, ah, tomorrow, we dock at Ketchikan, Alaska." Meg sighed and pulled out an itinerary from her purse and laid it on the counter between them.

"Ah, yes, 'Alaska's first city'. It's located on an island, once a fishing village …" Meg gave him her most withering expression. Ben quit, smiling indulgently at her.

"You know this itinerary better than I do. Why did you ask, Ben?" Meg asked softly, her expression changing.

"So you would talk to me," he answered, looking her straight in the eye.

"You never give up, do you?" The lady Mountie leaned back in her chair, sipping her latte to hide a smile.

"No, I do not." Ben leaned back again, his steady gaze never wavering. Meg could have kissed him for his confidence in her.

_What am I going to do with him,_  she wondered as she took a swig of her coffee. "What are we going to do about Kyle?" Meg countered.

"From the information Agent Markham provided, Kyle Phillips has ample motivation. I believe we need to confront him with the evidence." Ben laid out his plan in his usual, matter of fact way. He saw the shift in Meg's eyes, the way they narrowed.

"You disagree?" The Mountie saw her defenses begin to rise.

"We need to gain access to Phillips' quarters. If he knows how to get in touch with the buyer, the information would be there."

Agent Landon Markham sat by the indoor pool watching the bikini clad women walk by with a wolfish grin. His long, thin fingers toyed with the antenna on his cellular phone as he sat poolside, sipping a Long Island iced tea. When the wireless device rang the agent answered on the second ring.

"Hello." Markham listened to the heavy, Russian accent on the other end greet him enthusiastically.

"Agent Markham, how are we today?"

"Sitting poolside, waiting on you to make your move, Sasha." The agent answered, trying to cover his impatience.

"All in due time, all in due time, Markham. Sit back, drink, watch the girls. The blueprints will go into play very soon." The Russian's deep voice sounded like a grizzly bear. "I am still wondering how you convinced your superiors to let you go though with this undercover operation." Sasha was fishing and Markham knew it.

"My partner caught Candace Southerby before she could hand the plans off to me. I had to do something creative to get them to Anchorage."

Candace Southerby had been a pawn in a game of chess she couldn't imagine the rules to. Markham had used his position with the CSIS to find enough dirt on her to blackmail the secretary. Now she was facing trial for industrial espionage and a divorce after her husband, Benjamin, had found out about her past as a five thousand dollar a night call girl in college. Candace had put that part of her life behind her but hadn't told him.

The files Markham gave Fraser and Meg were what they needed to know to pass as Benjamin and Candace. He knew that giving the pair of undercover Mounties too much information would have proven fatal for him.

"Do the Mounties suspect anything yet?" Sasha asked, wary of having the two sleuths so close to his business.

"No, they're too busy with their own agenda to suspect anything." Markham's sly tone of voice made the old, Russian mobster chuckle. Sasha and Markham had been doing business for the last six years. Small stuff, just enough to pad Markham's bank account, until this data storage and transfer device. With the proceeds from this deal, the CSIS agent planned on disappearing, somewhere Canada didn't have an extradition treaty; somewhere warm.

"I'll call you when you get to Whittier." The Russian ended the conversation, his voice taunting. Markham gritted his expensive, capped teeth. It was a love-hate relationship between them; Markham loved the money and hated the Russian. The agent muttered a few, colorful phrases under his breath as he turned the cell phone off.

*****


	7. Teasing

_**Kyle Phillips's Quarters …** _

Meg sat on the twin sized bed searching through Kyle Phillips's dresser drawers. She found a stash of  _Playboy_ magazines, letters from his mother, socks, underwear, pajamas, civilian clothes, uniform clothes, and a few things she was certain customs would be interested in later. Phillips's room smelled like after shave and stale socks. A few posters hung on the wall opposite the bed; one of Marilyn Monroe and another of a bikini clad blonde on a sunset lit beach.

"If Phillips has a way to contact the buyer I haven't found it." Meg sighed, turning the bottom dresser drawer over to see if there was anything hidden underneath.

"I've yet to find it either." Ben sat down beside her on the bed. He had a thoughtful expression on his features, wondering just where it was he hadn't thought to look yet. Suddenly, the Mountie stood up like someone had pinched him. Ben went to the door and stood with his back to it. He stood silently, surveying the room.

"Get up." Meg looked at him, puzzled to be ordered around. She started to protest. Ben pushed past her as she stood up and pulled the mattress off the bed. Meg felt like a ninny. She helped him turn the box springs over and set it against the wall with the mattress without saying anything. Sure enough, under the bed was a shoe box. Inside was a cellular phone, surrounded by bricks of American currency.

"I don't believe this is his nest egg." Ben showed Meg the box. Her wide, brown eyes looked up at him, surprised.

"Turn the cell phone on, see what the last number dialed was," Meg ordered him. She sounded more sure than she felt. Ben could tell by the way she took a deep breath before looking him in the eye. It took him a few minutes to figure the contraption out. Meg stood close to him, listening to the line.

"Good afternoon, Anchorage Resort and Spa. How may I help you?" a woman's voice asked pleasantly. Since Ben didn't know who to ask to speak to, he hung up.

"Almost a dead end." Meg sighed, her nose crinkling under her glasses. She caught Ben watching her. A creeping, rose blush bloomed in her cheeks.

"Ah, we had better put this room back together before Phillips gets back," Meg stammered, her brain working at half speed.

"Yes, we should," Ben agreed, looking down at his shoes. Together they put the steward's room back the way they'd found it. Meg took down the cell phone's number to give to Markham for tracing later.

After re-locking the door, Ben and Meg left the crew quarters. Above decks, the sky was robin's egg blue. In the far distance were heavy black clouds. Salty air filled the Mounties' lungs.

"Do you want lunch or do you want to head back to the suite to plot our next move?" Meg asked as she strolled along the deck railing, avoiding the intense gaze she knew her subordinate officer would fix on her the moment their eyes met.

"Lunch would be wonderful." Ben's voice was cheerful, but it lacked conviction. The awkwardness between them was like humidity before a thunder storm, oppressive.

"Where would you like to go?" Ben fiddled with the change in his pockets, desperately wishing he had his Stetson, anything, to occupy his hands.

"I don't know, anywhere is fine," Meg answered thoughtfully, waving her hand to shoo the complication away. The question rolling around in her mind was, 'Who was staying at the Anchorage Resort and Spa?'

Ben lead the way down below, toward the restaurants and other activities. He kept his thoughts to himself as he navigated the luxury ship. Neon lights and the smell of food filled the passage as they weaved in and out of traffic, past old couples and young families. Looking around at all the places to eat, Ben chose a small, out of the way place. It had a country cottage theme, with wrought iron chairs and tables. Pastel flower arrangements hung from baskets above gold, gilt frames of rose gardens with Victorian-era ladies in white dresses strolling beneath parasols.

The pair sat down at a table in the back, a waitress taking their order as soon as they settled.

"We know Kyle Phillips has underworld connections from the money in the shoe box." Ben leaned forward pulling a one hundred dollar bill from his shirt pocket using a Kleenex.

"What we don't know is who is staying at the Anchorage Resort and Spa." Meg pulled a paper napkin out of the wicker basket on the table and an ink pen from her purse and began making notes.

"I'll call CSIS tomorrow when we leave the ship. There are a few questions I have about Agent Landon Markham."

"What do you plan on telling him this evening?" Ben asked, his voice quiet as he leaned forward to be heard better.

"The truth," Meg responded. She hated to be double crossed by anyone, but for an agent of the Canadian government to do such a thing angered her.

Over a quiet lunch, Ben and Meg discussed the case further. It wasn't what either of them wanted to talk about but neither of them knew anything else to conversate about. Meg watched Ben as he took a bite of his saur kraut, the briny cabbage seeping into his still red, split lip. He tried not to but hissed when it stung.

"That isn't doing any better, is it?" Meg winced when she heard. She felt responsible all over again.

"It's fine, Me, ah, Candace." The Mountie had to remind himself of what to call her when they were in public. He saw the apology in her eyes and gave her a reassuring, though lop sided, grin.

"You should get something to put on it before we go into Ketchikan tomorrow morning."

"I will, thank you kindly." Ben gave her a lightning quick wink, bringing back a faint blush. She gave him a playful tap against his ankle with her foot beneath the table. It made him laugh.

After dinner, Ben and Meg tapped on Markham's cabin door. Maria McLeod answered, pulling open the thin door after the first knock.

"Come in, Ben, Candace," she said, speaking only to Ben. Meg saw the other Mountie's Adam's apple bob when he heard her voice purr his name.

"Good evening, how are you?" Ben nodded politely, stepping through the door, toward Markham. Maria closed the door after Meg and went to close the blinds along the row of windows giving them a clear view of the ocean beyond.

"Ah, there you are. Maria and I were just talking about you." Markham smiled broadly. "Did you make contact with Phillips?" Meg pulled out the information she'd written on a paper napkin.

"We searched Kyle Phillips's quarters this morning. He had a shoe box of American currency and a cellular phone under his bed," the Inspector answered, her brown eyes as hard and dark as obsidian. Ben handed over the one hundred dollar bill he'd collected as evidence.

"This should get the ball rolling on our investigation. Good work." Markham stood up from the desk seat. "What are your plans for tomorrow? I hear Ketchikan is a honeymooner's paradise."

Ben could almost feel Meg's defenses rise as they stood face to face with the agent. He knew she was trying very hard to maintain her professionalism.

"We'll see you tomorrow evening after the ship sets sail if we find anything," Meg said, an edge to her husky voice.

"Hey, Ben, what are you plans for tonight? We could catch a show after dinner," Maria suggested, eyeing the Mountie with a vixen's smile.

"Ah, Ms. McLeod, that wouldn't be very helpful to the investigation. I'm supposed to be a married man after all." Ben pulled his left hand out of his jeans pocket to show the golden band on his ring finger.

"Maybe when this assignment is over we can go out. You can show me the sights of Chicago," Maria tried again.

"Ms. McLeod, I have someone waiting for me when I return," Ben answered, wishing he had his hat to hide beneath.

"Too bad." Maria shrugged, toying with her shoulder length hair.

"Good evening." Ben opened the door for Meg and they walked out together.

"You weren't talking about Detective Vecchio, were you?" Meg looked up at him, silently praying he had been talking about Diefenbaker waiting for him.

"No, of course not. I meant my wolf. But I don't think Ms. McLeod needs to know that, if you don't mind." Ben spoke just above a whisper. He strolled slightly behind Meg, his hands behind his back. She looked up at him, feeling that he was playing with her, teasing. Meg pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key. They both laughed.

**Author's Note:**  Calum Keith Rennie as Tyler McKnight on Smallville season 5. Episode directed by Tom Welling. I bounce around in my TV watching, I know.

 


	8. Ketchikan

_**The Honeymoon Suite …** _

Ben settled down to sleep on the couch, his lip still feeling a bit puffy but the worst of the redness was gone. Despite the strange surroundings and the seriousness of the assignment, he found it easy to fall asleep.

Somewhere past midnight he heard the familiar sounds of Meg's nightmare. She thrashed and cried out in the dark cabin. It was the second one in the last few days. Ben wondered at their source. She called out to her mother in her sleep, begging her not to leave.

"Mommy, you can't leave, I need you." Meg sobbed as she reached out to someone not there. Ben sat down on the bed beside her, pulling her against his chest as she cried.

"It's okay, Meg, everything is okay." He began stroking her hair as he spoke in his most soothing tone. "Nothing can hurt you, everything is fine, Meg." She woke up sobbing, her head against his shoulder. Still feeling the effects of the horrible dream, Meg wrapped her arms around him in a vice-like grip.

"Oh, Ben, it was awful. I was back there on that two lane road, my parents' car was turned over in the ditch, on fire. Dad couldn't get Mom out of the car. He dragged me out of the ditch. I could hear her screaming my name, begging Dad to get her out as the flames got closer. I could smell the rubber, the chemicals burning, I tasted blood on my lips after I hit the side of my head against the back window." Meg rambled, not really realizing she was talking or that Ben held her in his arms. "She was screaming my name, saying she loved me. I tried to get away from Dad, but I wasn't strong enough." Meg quit talking and sobbed, her body shuddering. Ben pulled a few tissues from the box on the night stand and handed them to her. He continued stroking her hair, his warm hand rubbing circles on her back as he held her. It took him a moment to realize he couldn't feel anything but her body beneath the thin, silky material of her pajamas. Part of his mind he rarely unleashed rose to the surface. There was so little separating them. With a deep breath, he pulled away, easing away from the still distraught woman.

"Don't leave, Ben." Meg sounded like a child as she leaned forward into the circle of warm light cast by the bedside lamp. His keen eyes studied her weary face for a moment before that unleashed part of him let his eyes drift downward, to the top button of her long sleeve pajama top.

"You need to rest," He said gruffly.

"Sit with me a moment?" She saw the indecision in his green eyes. Meg could still feel the heat of the car fire on her skin and smell the rubber burning. Her husky voice was hoarse, clogged from crying.

"Alright." Ben gave in, scooting deeper into the bed as she moved to give him room.

"Pretend I'm someone else, Ben. Hold me?" She laced her fingers with his, drawing him against her.

"I don't have to pretend you're anyone else tonight, Meg, it will be tomorrow that the pretending will start. I'll pretend this never happened, that my dream didn't come true." Ben thought to himself as he spooned against her back, their hands laced and resting around her waist.

The next morning Meg woke up, Ben still holding her. She tried hard not to wake him up as she turned over to face him. Looking at him in the soft light from the port holes, she saw his dark lashes against his cheeks and the way his hair curled softly behind his ears. It was difficult to resist the temptation to wake him with a kiss. Ben looked so peaceful.

"I wish I could tell you how I feel, that some days I feel like I'm walking around without a heart, because I gave it all to you. I hate hearing you call me 'inspector', or 'sir' or 'ma'am'. I hate this distance between us, Ben." Meg whispered softly as she touched his cheek. Regretfully, Meg slid out of bed and pulled her clothes out of the drawer before heading to the bathroom.

When he heard the bathroom door lock, Ben sat up in bed. His keen ears had heard every word Meg had whispered. He wanted to tell her that he hated calling her those formal titles and that he wanted very much to close the gap between them.

Meg washed the previous night's bad dream away, down the shower drain. The hot water felt good against her tense muscles. She let her cucumber and melon soap ease the smell of burning rubber out of her sinuses. It had been a long while since she'd dreamed of her mother's death all those years ago.

_"What am I going to do about Fraser?"_  The inspector asked herself as she massaged in her shampoo then conditioner. Twenty minutes later she still hadn't solved her quandary. Stepping out of the shower, Meg pulled on the fluffy, terrycloth robe and wiped fog from the mirror. Even in the blurred mirror she could still see the sadness in her brown eyes. No amount of make-up, or queen bee attitude could mask her feelings forever. Quickly, Meg dressed and brushed her teeth, freeing the bathroom for Ben.

The Mountie had dressed, rolled his bedding up and stowed it away for the day. He saw the way his boss lady avoided his gaze as she began brushing her wet hair out. It took Ben a minute to think of something to say.

"Good morning, how are you this morning?" He asked nonchalantly, smiling pleasantly.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ben." Meg responded more sharply than she'd intended.

"Understood." He shrugged, moving across the room and disappearing into the bathroom. Meg could have kicked herself for being so mean. She'd seen the disappointed, hurt expression in his face as she looked at him in the mirror. How many more times could she push him away before he would stay away?

A few minutes later Fraser had finished his morning routine and came back out into the cabin. Meg stood at the window, contemplating the horizon. He stood quietly on the opposite side of the small cabin, watching her, wondering what, other than her mother's death, had hurt her so badly that she pushed him away.

"Ben, I shouldn't have snapped at you, I apologize." Her voice was strong but he suspected there were tears in her eyes. It was difficult to tell behind those glasses.

"I understand, Meg. I hope you're feeling better." She stiffened at the formality in his tone.

"I am sorry, Ben." Meg's tone softened as she turned to face him. She didn't want to go on putting distance between them. "At least this nightmare didn't leave you with another split lip." She tried to lift the tension between them. Ben smiled, looking down at his shoes. The cabin was filled with the usual awkward tension. It was a common occurrence between them, and something that both of them hated.

"We should be leaving for Ketchikan?" Meg reminded him, getting back to business.

"I'm ready when you are." Ben picked up the assignment again. The Mountie grabbed his leather jacket and Meg found her purse. Together they made their way above decks and out into the tourist destination.

_**Ketchikan, Alaska …** _

Agent Markham strolled down the gang plank beside his partner. The saucy brunette wore a pair of well fitting jeans and a thick, white turtleneck beneath an aviator jacket. She wouldn't have minded taking in Ketchikan, but she didn't want to have to with Landon Markham. Maria had been working with him for four years and had requested a change of partners every year; just to be denied. Together they got the job done.

"Isn't it going to be difficult to follow two, highly trained RCMP officers?" Maria wondered aloud as they weaved through the thong of people getting out of the  _Alaskan Queen_. Clear, blue skies overhead and sunshine made it a perfect day for nosing around Ketchikan.

"They'll be so busy checking out totem poles and visiting curio shops to see us." Markham assured her with his most convincing smile. Maria felt the need to bathe in a degreaser.

"If you say so." The younger agent shrugged, unconvinced. The digital chirping of Markham's cellular phone kept him from saying anything else, much to Maria's thanks. The agent looked at the display and frowned.

"I'll take this and be with you in a minute." Markham took the phone several feet away. Between the din of disembarking passengers and sea birds overhead, he was sure Maria wouldn't overhear.

"Hello, Sasha, how are you?" Markham made nice. He hated talking to the bossy, Russian mobster.

"Markham, I know you are not yet in Anchorage, I just wanted to call and check on your progress, is your undercover agent taking care of the device's blueprints?" The old Russian's accent was thick. Markham could almost hear the cigar smoke rolling over the phone line.

"Meg Thatcher has them safely tucked into her things." Markham answered, his teeth gritted as he tried to sound civil.

"Then safely un-tuck the plans. I want those plans  _before_  you get to Anchorage. My contacts are growing impatient." Markham cursed silently.

"I'll have Kyle find the blueprints while they're out tomorrow." Markham responded.

"Make sure that you do, Agent Markham." The old Russian warned him, his tone grave. The next thing Markham heard was the dial tone. When he looked around he saw Maria buying a pretzel from a street vendor. The way she smiled as she paid the vendor, Markham felt safe that she hadn't heard.

Maria bit into her pretzel in order to hide her pale face. She'd suspected Markham of doing dirty deals in the past but she hadn't actually witnessed any of them. This time she'd heard everything with her own, two ears.

"Where do you think the Mounties have gotten off to so far?" Maria played dumb, nibbling daintily on a her pretzel.

"Let's find the first totem pole, see if Santa left them there." Markham declared snobbishly. Maria simply nodded and went along with him.

*** 

**Author's Note:**  Daniel Kash  _Due South's_  Det. Louis Gardino in the movie  _Mama._

 


	9. Broken Limb

_**On Shore …** _

The majority of the  _Alaskan Queen's_  passengers had disembarked early and spread throughout Ketchikan. Curio shops selling native wares were filled with vacationers. Ben and Meg roamed the streets, window shopping as they pleased. Neither of them had much to say, especially about the case since they didn't know the data device's buyer. By lunch time, Ben had the distinct feeling they were being followed.

"Are you hungry?" Meg asked, her stomach shaking hands with her backbone and growling about it.

"Oh, I hadn't thought about it?" He looked down at her, a surprised expression in his eyes.

"You don't get hungry unless you think about it?" Meg asked, her brows knit together as she looked up, into the morning sun to see his face.

"I've been preoccupied." Ben drew her into the entrance to a buffet restaurant. Neither of them had thought to get breakfast that morning. He saw the question in her eyes.

"Follow me." Ben whispered near her ear. Together they walked to the nearest curio shop and stopped to look at the window display. Taking her elbow, Ben maneuvered Meg to one side. Standing behind them, pretending to stroll amiably down the street walked Markham and Maria.

"Do you see them?" Ben's warm breath tickled Meg's ear as he pointed toward something in the window. Sure enough, Meg saw the late morning sun in the reddish brunette's hair.

"Yes. How long have they been behind us?" The lady Mountie pointed to something in the widow and smiled as Maria caught a glimpse of them.

"The last twenty minutes or so." Ben responded. Meg grimaced, wondering how she could have missed something so obvious.

"Agent Markham is actually very good, I believe Maria is trying to slow him down." Ben gently guided Meg into the curio shop.

"What makes you say that?" The lady Mountie wondered. Ben looked at her a moment without speaking, deliberating exactly how much she actually wanted to hear for an explanation.

"Maria's stride is approximately a meter long since she's five foot, ten inches, or so, roughly the same height as Markham. The physical requirements for the CSIS are strenuous, so we know she can easily match Markham's pace. Why is she struggling to keep up?" Meg mulled his logic for a moment. As always, Ben made sense.

"What are we going to do about them?" Meg whispered as they walked into a native wares shop. The place glittered with florescent lighting and carved, wooden figurines; eagles, wolverines, bears, and wolves.

"Let's have lunch." Meg looked at him, confused. After strolling around the shop for a few more minutes, the pair went back to the restaurant. Ben had noticed the way she had looked longingly at the restaurant's buffet.

"Yes, let's do." The twinkle in Meg's eye was worth the delay. She hooked her arm though his and let him lead her back down the street.

After ordering their drinks and setting themselves at a table in the back the Mounties sat across from each other. Ben studied her coolly for a moment. She had been avoiding his gaze and hadn't said anything remotely personal all day. All the old defenses were up and standing strong. Ben went out on a limb, knowing he may have the branch snapped beneath his feet.

"Are you ready to tell me about the nightmares?" His voice was smooth, she could tell he wasn't probing. Her knee-jerk reaction was to pull away just the same.

"No." Meg answered, gripping her fork like it was glued to her hand. Ben saw the metal begin to bend. He had seen her at her most vulnerable. There was no way to erase that and she knew it.

"You woke up begging your mother not to leave you, saying you could smell burning rubber, trying to pull away from your father, trying to rescue your mother." Ben pressed the subject, seeing the fight rising in Meg's posture, in her eyes. He also saw the pain in her eyes and kicked himself for dredging it up.

"It's none of your business, Ben, I should never have …" Meg didn't know how to finish that sentence. The tears threatening to spill from her brown eyes made good. Quickly, the lady Mountie got up from her seat and left the restaurant.

"Nicely done, Fraser, nicely done." He muttered to himself.

**Back on the** _**Alaskan Queen …** _

Walking along the top deck, Ben recounted the events of the last few days. It hadn't been as easy to get to know Kyle as he and Meg had thought. It hadn't been easy to get to know Meg either. Playing their 'parts' only went so far. She still kept so much of herself below the surface. She was like a still pool, running deeper than he could gauge. Bringing up the nightmares at lunch hadn't helped matters.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Maria McLeod spoke from behind the Mountie. Startled, he turned around. The sun brought out the red highlights in the CSIS agent's shoulder length hair. He felt like a mouse being toyed with by a hungry, barn cat.

"Just trying to figure out the best way to do this assignment." Ben surveyed the deck around them. There wasn't anyone in sight.

"What's so perplexing, the go-between is Kyle." Maria shrugged, stepping closer to the rugged Mountie. She studied his features, there was a sadness about him. She also sensed that he was an old soul. Ben's green eyes had seen more in his time than his years allowed.

"Perhaps, but we can't be certain." Ben felt the need to be guarded with Maria, he didn't know how much he could trust either agent.

"How's the social butterfly routine going for you?" Maria tried a brighter tact. She leaned against the rail, showcasing her long, curvy figure.

"It wasn't something the academy prepared me for." A tight smile pulled at Ben's lips.

"I take it the academy didn't prepare our girl, Candace, either." Maria smiled, teasingly.

"Ah, yes, I'm afraid she and I are both a bit out of our expertise." Ben shrugged.

"I read your files from the consulate, they're quite interesting. I've also read files concerning you from the Chicago PD, they're even more interesting. Now why would there be such a difference between the files she keeps and the ones filed with Lt. Welsh?" Ben blanched at her words. He hadn't realized Meg had been covering for him. The Mountie studied the woman before him, trusting her even less than before. He didn't like the thoughts of someone checking up on him behind his back.

"Now is not the time, nor is this the place to discuss this, Ms. McLeod." Ben said, his voice taking on a sharp edge.

"I see how it is. You are quite right about the place, Ben." Maria's sharp, blue eyes danced with innuendo. "But we will discuss this later, Meet me here on deck at midnight." With a triumphant air, the woman walked back toward the stern.

Sitting in their cabin, Meg thought about how her life had changed since she'd been assigned the Chicago Consulate and met Benton Fraser. He'd been a breath of fresh air the first time she'd laid eyes on him. That certain something he had about him, that air of quiet, humble confidence and mystery had attracted her to him. Benton Fraser was unlike anyone Meg had ever encountered.

The room around her was quiet except for the sound of the water against the hull. Most of the passengers had left the ship in favor of shopping and tourist attractions on shore. Lonely, Meg retrieved Ben's flannel shirt from the closet and buried her nose in it, savoring his scent. Tired, she laid over on the bed the maid had just made a few hours before, the red and black material clutched against her chest. It didn't take long before Meg was fast asleep, her jacket and shoes still on.

Ben unlocked the cabin door and stepped inside, closing the door quietly and locking it when he saw Meg curled up on the double bed. She seemed so peaceful, more at rest than he'd seen her the whole trip. He noticed she had one of his shirts in her arms. The Mountie made a mental note to slip one of them in her luggage before they returned to Chicago. Tip toeing, he came around to the far side of the bed and sat down. A long, dark strand of hair fell across her face. The tickling of Ben's fingers woke her up.

"Hmm, Ben?" Meg turned onto her back to look up at him, squinting without her glasses.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry." He looked down into those beautiful eyes and resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her.

"It's okay, I should get up anyway." Quickly, Meg wiped the sleep from her eyes. She realized she'd been curled up with Ben's shirt and blushed. He tried hard not let a smile slip out but the corners of his mouth twitched anyway. She glared at him handed the shirt back.

"I owe you an apology, Meg, I shouldn't have brought up your nightmares." The Mountie turned serious, remembering the reason he'd come back to the cabin.

"Apology accepted, Ben." Meg responded without looking him in the eye. Instead she raked her fingers through her sleek bob as she sat facing the mirror above the dresser. She was becoming accustomed to seeing her reflection wearing glasses.

"If you ever want to talk, I'll listen." Ben offered, his shirt still in one hand.

"Thank you, Ben." Meg spoke, her tone calm and professional.  _"Why do you always have to raise your defenses?"_ The Mountie thought to herself. Growing up her defenses had served her well. Without a mother to provide a constant in their lives, Meg and her father had moved from place to place. He changed jobs every few years. She'd rarely stayed in one place long enough to make friends. When she did, she knew she would have to leave them. Eventually, she quit trying to make friends. Her father never noticed that his daughter was a solitary, self-reliant person. She was barely noticeable as he tried to run from his heart ache and loneliness. Too often Meg's father had drowned his pain in alcohol. By the time Meg was out of school her father had ruined his health. He died from liver failure just after she graduated from the RCMP Academy. It was too late to change who she had become.

After a long silence between them, Ben spoke again.

"I spoke to Maria McLeod on deck earlier, she told me of discrepancies between the files you file with our superiors and the ones Ray files with Lt. Welsh." Ben's steady gaze compelled her to tell the truth.

"I file only the absolute truth, Fraser." Meg stood up, her arms crossed over her chest, angry at the insinuation.

"I'm not implying you don't." He began, wishing he hadn't said anything in the first place. "Why do you cover for me, Meg?" He dismissed all of the arguments to soothe her that his mind had formulated and went for the brutal truth.

"How can I not, Ben?" She answered, still fuming but softening. "I tell Ottawa the truth, but I down play certain things." Sometimes writing her reports was like a writing assignment for a college class.

"You put yourself too far out on the limb, Meg." Ben stood up, walking around the bed to stand in front of her. "Don't put your career in jeopardy for me." He peered down at her, his features solemn.

"You would do the same for me if the shoe was on the other foot, Ben." Meg shot back at him.

"You are absolutely right." He cradled her face in both hands and pressed a kiss against her forehead. Meg nearly melted, leaning against him as her knees weakened. How was she supposed to argue with him?

"We still have to call CSIS about Markham." Meg changed the subject, feeling apprehensive but not quite able to grasp why.

"Indeed, we do." Ben sat down beside her on the bed again. He resisted the urge to pull her against him and give her a gentle squeeze.

Meg felt stupid for getting them both into such a dangerous assignment without doing her homework first. Every instinct she had screamed for her to check Markham out as soon as he'd left the consulate. She hadn't and now she felt trapped.

"There's no time like the present." Meg pushed herself up from the bed, found her purse and waited until Ben had slipped his coat on again.

***

 


	10. In the Phone Booth

_**Ketchikan, again …** _

Markham and Maria walked around Ketchikan for an hour after they saw Meg walk out of the restaurant and back to the ship. The fresh air and friendly faces of the tourist destination made it easy for the CSIS agents to blend in with the crowd.

"Are you ready to go back?" Maria asked after she'd walked past the same shop for the third time.

"Yes, let's, my feet are killing me." Markham looked down at the dress shoes he'd worn. They were stylish but had almost no support.

Together the pair leisurely strolled back to the  _Alaskan Queen_  and went their separate ways. Markham make his way below to his cabin and found Kyle.

"Hey, Kyle, I had a question about something." Markham said congenially as he unlocked his cabin door.

"Certainly, Mr. Markham, whatever I can do to help." The porter followed the CSIS agent into the room. Markham closed the door and propped a chair against the handle.

"What's this about, Markham?" The porter demanded, his servile demeanor disappearing instantly.

"Our buyer wants the blueprints  _before_  we reach Anchorage. You need to get into the Southerby cabin and find them, this afternoon." Markham's dark eyes held a dangerous glint in them that Kyle feared.

"Then my share just went up five thousand dollars." The porter swallowed hard, trying not to appear as fearful as he felt.

"I'll tell you what," Markham pulled a gun out of a holster in the small of his back and shoved it in the young man's face. "I'll give you something you might think is a lot more valuable- your life." The agent growled as he clicked the hand gun's safety off.

"Okay! Okay! I'll get the blueprints." Kyle backed away, nearly tripping over the chair wedged against the door handle.

"Good, I'll send them off to the Russian when we get to port tomorrow when we land in Juneau." Markham put the gun's safety back on and slid it back in the holster. "Now scram." He took the chair away from the door and opened it for the younger man. Without looking back, Kyle made his way down the hallway.

"Turnbull is looking the number up as we speak." Meg turned to look at Ben, the payphone pressed against her ear. It had taken over an hour to make sure Markham or Maria weren't following them and to find a payphone. Meg knew her calling card would take a hit for this case.

"This could take a while." Ben ran his hands through his short, dark hair.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Meg asked as she watched him fidget.

"Do what?" He looked back at her wide eyed.

"Are you missing your Stetson?" Meg smiled, teasing him.

"Yes, terribly." The Mountie rolled his green eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. Meg laughed.

"Yes, Turnbull, connect me, thank you kindly." Meg turned back around when she heard the junior Mountie come back on the line. After a few moments hanging in limbo, she heard a female voice on the other end.

"This is Inspector Margaret Thatcher …" It took her a while to identify herself before the woman on the other end asked her the purpose of the call. "I'm calling for information on CSIS Agents Landon Markham and Maria McLeod." Meg fished an ink pen and a pad of paper out of her purse.

"Agent Landon Markham is currently under suspension until further notice. Agent Maria McLeod is on vacation." The woman's voice sounded neutral.

"Neither of them is on assignment, anywhere?" Meg asked aloud, signaling Ben to come close. He stood beside her, his keen ear tuned to the person on the other end.

"No, Inspector Thatcher, neither agent is on assignment." Facing out of the phone booth, Ben saw a familiar figure walking down the street toward them. Quickly, the Mountie closed the phone booth door and took Meg in his arms. She looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"I'll call back, thank you." Meg barely had time to speak before Ben hung the phone up and drew her against him.

"What's going on, Ben?" She tried to look over his shoulder.

"Markham." The light of understanding lit her dark eyes. She felt his breath against her ear as he held her. Instinctively, Meg slipped her arms around his neck. They stood in the stuffy phone booth, the weak, Alaskan sunshine warming the small space, as well as their combined body heat, making it hot in the glass booth. A distant memory came to them, one of cold wind rushing their faces and the feel of their bodies being pressed together. Meg's heart beat hard against her chest. She swallowed hard when she felt Ben's kiss against her jaw, then another on her neck. She could smell his Irish Spring soap and feel the button on his jeans rub against her stomach.

Ben let a pleased hum escape at the feel of Meg's nails lightly scratching his neck. She had pressed herself tighter against him and from the way her breathing had increased, he knew the lady Mountie wanted more. His own pulse slammed like a jackhammer as he let his hands wander a little farther down Meg's back, to her hips. A sheet of notebook paper wouldn't have slid between the two. Ben heard her gasp when his tongue teased the skin against her collar bone.

"Oh dear." It was his turn for surprise when Meg's hand slid down into the hip pocket of his Wranglers, and she wasn't after his billfold. He looked down at her face and saw her blush. Quickly, Meg pulled her hand back. Caught red-handed, as it were, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, wishing she could rewind time and erase the last few seconds. Meg couldn't say she was sorry, she wasn't and it would only add to their embarrassment.

Ben leaned his head against the booth door, wishing he hadn't reacted. Meg's arms were still around his neck as she buried her face in his chest. He held her for a moment before he leaned back down and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. Neither of them would speak of the incident, they both knew that.

"I shouldn't have," Ben began, his tongue rubbing against his slightly imperfect eye tooth.

"We are both adults, Fraser." He heard her husky voice come softly, her cheek against his chest. Meg felt responsible and terrible. She'd let her emotions control a potentially dangerous situation.

"This isn't easy, for either of us." He stroked her dark, silky hair.

"No, it isn't." With a sigh, Meg pulled away and looked up at him for a moment. "I'm Meg when I'm not on duty, then I'm Inspector Margaret Thatcher at the consulate, aboard the ship I'm Candace Southerby, but here, with you, I'm someone else." Her shoulders sank a fraction as she stood with her back against the payphone.

"We all have facets, different sides of ourselves." Ben knew too well what it was like to be two, different people. There was the Benton Fraser, RCMP officer, dressed in a red serge uniform, the world saw. Then there was Ben, the man misplaced in a teeming city of Americans he didn't understand. Somewhere between the two was Ben, the musician, the writer, and the old soul longing for rest.

"We should be getting back to the ship, we set sail at two o'clock." Meg frowned slightly as she began tugging on the phone booth door. With the two of them in there, it wouldn't budge.

"Allow me." Ben reached up and released the door from it's track, allowing them both to get out.

"How did you know to do that?" Meg asked, wondering at the endless supply of knowledge he exhibited.

"As a fresh officer one of my superiors thought it would be funny to send me out to the aid of a rather corpulent woman who'd been stuck in a phone booth for the better part of an hour. Needless to say, the woman was extremely upset, what with the crowd gathered around, gawking at her, children pointing and laughing. At one point I had to disassemble the entire door frame to set her free. I found out at a later juncture that there is an emergency door release at the top and the bottom of the doors for such emergencies." The smile on Meg's face was worth the embarrassment he'd felt all those years ago.

"That was a mean thing to do to the both of you, I'm sorry." She really did feel badly, but Meg could just see Ben working furiously on the door, his face red and a crowd looking on.

"I learned from the experience, as did the woman." Ben shrugged it off, his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Were they cruel to you again?" Meg asked walking an arm's length beside him.

"There were occasions, though few and far between." He smiled, looking at the sun overhead to gauge the time of day.

"I can sympathize." Meg responded quietly, thinking back to her days in the Academy, and for a while afterward. She'd been thought of as one of two things, depending on the person's perspective, and neither of them were flattering. The old ghosts were evident to Ben from the sound of her voice and the far way cast to her face. He slipped his hand around hers and squeezed gently for a brief, reassuring moment.


	11. Ransacked

_**The Southerby Cabin …** _

Kyle knocked on the door and waited, listening for movement or an answer. Looking up the hall then down, he pulled his master key out and let himself into Candace and Benjamin Southerby's honeymoon suite. Markham had told him to be careful of the pair, that they were RCMP officers impersonating the couple and therefore very dangerous.

Locking the door behind him and shoving a chair against it, the porter started with the dresser, the most obvious place. He found the left side of the drawers to be neatly organized and in logical order, but nothing more interesting than Meg's delicates. On the right side Kyle found everything organized in military precision. Other than three pair of red long johns, nothing interesting there either. Next, he checked the closet. There he found a pillow and a sleeping bag rolled up and set neatly on the bottom shelf. The porter unrolled it and dumped the pillow out of it's cloth case. Nothing. He then went through coat pockets and their luggage, pulling the baggage apart looking for hidden compartments. He even pulled out the in-soles of their shoes looking for the blueprints. Again, nothing to be found. Kyle turned over the bed, dumped the pillows, moved the television, emptied the couch cushions, turned the couch upside down, yanked the pictures off the walls, went through the bathroom, took the lid off the toilet tank, felt behind the toilet, the mirror, he even broke Meg's hair brush handle to see if the blueprints were hidden there. Nothing.

"What am I going to do? They must have the blueprints on them." Kyle leaned against the dresser as he looked at the trashed room. Desperate, he began searching through the curtains, seeing if something could be hidden in the hem of the heavy material. His watch alarm chimed, reminding him that the  _Alaskan Queen_  was set to sail at two o'clock. "Damn, they'll be back any minute." Kyle let himself out of the room and locked it behind him.

Like a homing pigeon, Kyle went back to Markham and told him the findings.

"I'll take care of it." The agent growled. Markham sent the young man back to work, telling him to keep an eye peeled.

_**Before setting sail …** _

"Yes, I'd like to go to the show tonight." Meg answered as she unlocked the cabin door. She looked back at Ben with a puzzled expression when the door wouldn't open fully. He pulled her back out into the hallway and put a silencing finger to his lips. Quickly, Ben surveyed the sliver of the cabin he could see before pushing his way inside. The place was a mess. Pillow and cushion stuffing littered the floor and their belongings were scattered hither and yon.

"What is it, Ben?" Meg peeked around the door.

"Someone's been here, searching." The Mountie whispered the last word. He ushered her back into the hallway and closed the door.

"We have to report this, if we don't they'll think it's suspicious." Meg's dark eyes were wide in surprise and excitement, rather like the way she looked at him when he'd pulled her against him in the phone booth. Ben only nodded in agreement.

"Let's find the staff captain." Ben took Meg's hand and together they made their way to the officer's offices.

Staff Captain Roy Taylor was a career cruise ship man. The short, stocky officer greeted them with a broad smile.

"What can I do for you?" The deep voice that came out of him was surprising for his less than average height.

"Our room has been vandalized." Ben began. The staff captain stood up from behind his desk.

"Show me." He followed the pair to their cabin, asking a million questions as they walked.

"My word, is there anything missing?" Taylor asked, standing at the cabin door, looking in at the disaster area.

"We haven't stepped inside as yet." Ben responded, standing behind Taylor.

"For the authorities, I presume." Meg and Ben both nodded.

"I'll have the Chief Radio Officer inform the Alaskan State Troopers." Taylor sighed, wishing he could avoid the inevitable paperwork.

"I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, allow me to arrange another suite for you."

"Thank you kindly." Meg smiled at the officer. Turning, she took Ben's hand.

_**Four hours later ….** _

It was six-thirty in the evening when Meg and Ben finally arrived at their new suite. They still hadn't eaten dinner, nor had they retrieved their belongings. Some of the questions Officer Denisof asked them tested both Mounties' patience. He'd been sent out on a curiosity call. He'd never been on a cruise ship. Ben could see Meg's mouth twitching, dying to tell the officer what he was doing wrong. That would have been suspicious.

"Calm down, Meg." Ben whispered as they both sat down on the bed.

"What do you think they were looking for when they ransacked our cabin?" Meg flopped back on the bed and puffed her cheeks out. It had been a very long, very tiring day. The lady Mountie was beat.

"The blueprints, as well as our RCMP identification I believe." Ben answered, matter-of-factly.

"Yes, those." Meg groaned. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the beginnings of a headache.

"May I?" Ben asked, his fingers poised over her temples. She nodded. Looking up, Meg saw the way his green eyes were framed by long, thick lashes. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the quiet moment. The slight pressure of his fingers gently rolling against her temples relaxed the lady Mountie, putting her into a blissful trance.

"Does that feel better?" His voice was quiet, concerned.

"Yes, thank you, Ben." Meg took a deep breath, opening her eyes again to look up at him. She didn't want this assignment to end. Being here, with Benton, was the best three days she'd ever spent with anyone. She saw a side of him she only glimpsed on rare occasions. Later, Meg would say she was playing a part, but the woman on this cruise ship was the one she wanted to be all the time.

Ben saw the tired smile pull at Meg's warm, red lips as he rubbed her temples. She was relaxed again, far away in her mind. He'd been contemplating her since they'd been thrown together in this assignment. The Mountie sensed her loneliness and her fear of intimacy; two things he struggled with himself.

Meg let her mind wander, free of anything related to either the case or Benton Fraser. Mentally, she was walking along a forest path she'd once strolled down as a young girl, past ancient pines and thick under growth. That's when a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning.

"I know how they got into our cabin, Ben." Meg sat up like someone had pinched her. He sat on the edge of the bed, blinking at her sudden change.

"They had to have a key to the rooms, and be someone that wouldn't look out of place in the middle of the day while passengers are out."

"Kyle." Ben stood up. She was right, there hadn't been any sign of forced entry and the door was locked back behind the thief.

"Precisely, he has a master key to all the rooms and no one would think it odd for him to be near our room." She paced the space between the bed and the dresser, all six feet of it, one hand on her hip and her other thumb nail between her teeth.

"We must rule out any of he maintenance crew and the cleaning staff." Ben brought up the fact only to receive a frown from his boss.

"He's the puppet and Markham is pulling his strings. They must need the blueprints earlier than anticipated." Meg argued back.

"Yes, I agree. I'm supposed to meet Maria at midnight on the top deck, she said she needed to tell me something." Ben hooked his thumbs in his front belt loops as he leaned against the bathroom door frame.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a meeting with her?" Meg stopped pacing to see his reaction.

"I was preoccupied, she caught me after our first excursion to Ketchikan." He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Oh." Meg thought back to the argument they'd had at lunch. She wondered how Ben felt about the CSIS agent. Maria was tall, lean, confident and quite capable of keeping up with her subordinate officer. She probably knew how to do a myriad of things that would impress Ben.

"We should collect our things from our cabin, then we should see to dinner. Neither of us has eaten all day. It may prove to be a long night as well." Ben pushed himself away from the door frame and extended his hand to Meg.

"Yes, we've delayed long enough." Meg laid her hand in his big, rough one. Together they exited their new cabin and made sure the door was locked.

 **Author's Note: Staff Captain-** Also known as the executive officer and the captain's right hand man.


	12. Keys to the Kingdom

Meg was quiet as they ate dinner. Any plans they'd made to see a show were long canceled. Neither of the undercover Mounties felt comfortable leaving their belongings locked in a cabin when someone with a key had ransacked their cabin.

"What would you like to do this evening?" Ben asked, hoping to get something besides silence out of his superior officer.

"I hadn't thought." Meg shrugged, picking at her broiled salmon and roasted red skin potatoes.

"Perhaps an early night would be prudent." Ben suggested, cutting is steak precisely between a steak knife and fork.

"Prudent, I hate that word, prudent. It sounds like someone swallowed a bushel of prunes." Meg thought as she held Ben's gaze. There was anything but prudence in her eyes. When she sighed the look was gone.

"Yes, you've a meeting later." That tone Meg used when she was in full, Inspector Thatcher, swing came out. Ben caught the jealousy and felt both guilty and flattered. He felt flattered that she cared enough to be jealous.

"Maria McLeod knows what Markham is planning, her information could be key to the case." Ben responded defensively.

"Yes, I know, but that woman still galls me for some reason." The lady Mountie spat venomously. Ben leaned back against his seat, his face a mask of neutrality. He didn't know how to respond to such an emotional expression.

"I'm sorry, I must be more tired than I thought." Meg pushed her plate away, actually wanting fudge swirl ice cream instead.

Ben flagged down their waitress and asked for two take-out boxes for the remainder of their dinners. He knew she hadn't slept a great deal, what with nightmares two nights in a row, and they had gotten an early start in Ketchikan. The fact that she wasn't grumpier surprised him.

By nine o'clock Meg was settled comfortably in the queen size bed and Ben had spread his roll out on the couch. He lay, still dressed, thinking about the case, and about Meg.

"I should tell her, she deserves to know how I feel." Ben thought to himself, his fingers toying mindlessly with a stand of hair near his crown.

"Wake her up, Son, tell her what you feel. The time you'll have with her is growing shorter by the day." Ben jerked when he heard his father's voice. Robert Fraser stood at the foot of the bed, his face lit by a shaft of light coming through the port hole.

"Dad, now you decide to show up?" Ben hissed at his father's ghost.

"Ghosts and water don't mix well for some reason, I'm not quite certain about why. Anyway, I think you should tell the inspector." Bob prattled on. He was the kind of ghost that rattled his mouth instead of chains like Marley, from Charles Dickens'  _A Christmas Carol._

"Inspector, that is one, very good reason  _not_  to tell her. It would be improper, it's against regulations." Ben shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbed his coat. The time to meet Maria McLeod had arrived.

"Ahhh," Bob Fraser growled, waving his son's reasoning away. "Tell her, let the chips fall where they may." The old Mountie paced the space between the couch and the bathroom, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Letting the chips fall where they may could result in Meg losing her position with the RCMP, Dad, that is unacceptable." Ben ushered his father's ghost out the cabin door and locked it behind them. There were still a few people roaming around the ship, most of them either blind drunk or tipsy.

"A woman's place is home and hearth, losing her position would free her up to have those grand kids of mine you've been putting off." Bob Fraser shook his head as he followed his son up the last set of steps to the top deck.

"Gracious, Dad, that kind of thinking wasn't even popular when you and Mom were courting. I don't see Mom agreeing to it." Ben whispered as he zipped his jacket against the cold, below freezing wind chill along the deck railing.

"She didn't agree with me, she and I had more than one argument about it. Mostly I baited her with it for the making up." A wistful tone came into the old man's voice. Ben turned to look at his father but he wasn't there. Only the sound of the ship's engines churning the water below and the wind in his ears greeted Ben.

"Who's there?" Maria's voice called out, sounding like a cat's meow from a distance.

"Maria?" Ben called. The willowy figure appeared beside him along the railing. Her pale face was drawn.

"Where's our girl, Candace?" Maria smiled but her heart wasn't in the dig.

"She's asleep. What did you want to talk to me about?" Ben studied the woman's features. She was wearing a lot of make-up and a short, tight, sleeveless cocktail dress and high heels. Maria shivered as the breezed blew through every stitch she wore.

"I overheard Markham talking to someone this morning just after we disembarked. I didn't hear all of it, but I heard him call who ever it was 'Sasha' and something about Anchorage. If I hear anything else, I'll tell you." Without saying anything more, the CSIS agent turned and walked away. It didn't take her long to disappear in the darkness.

Ben heard a shrill yelp from a few meters away. "That wasn't a very nice thing to do to a fellow agent, Maria." Markham held Maria by the upper arm, his grip as tight as a vice. In the other hand he held a hand gun pointed at Maria. Ben stepped forward anyway.

"Not so fast there, Stud." Kyle came up on Ben from behind and using a pipe wrench, he cold cocked the Mountie. Ben fell to the deck like a sack of potatoes.

"Thatcher will turn the blueprints over without a second thought if we have him safely tucked away. Have you got a place to put him where we won't be spotted?"

"Oh, you bet, I have the keys to the kingdom." Kyle grinned as he took Ben under the arms and began dragging him to the stairwell. Markham grinned like a sly fox as he dragged Maria along.

****

 


	13. Captives

_**The New Cabin …** _

"No, please, don't, Mommy." Meg pulled against her father's embrace. She could feel the heat from the car fire as she strained against his arms. Flames rose high into the air, licking at tree branches overhead.

"No, Meg, it's no use." Her father's voice repeated as the dream faded. Meg sat up in bed, crying, tangled up in the bed clothes. Panting, the lady Mountie struggled to free her legs of the flat sheet. Turning on the bedside lamp, Meg looked first at the digital clock-radio : 2:36 AM. Looking further afield, she tried to find the familiar shape of Benton sleeping on the couch. Instead she found his pillow at one end and his blanket folded neatly at the other. It had been two and a half hours since he was supposed to meet Maria on the top deck. Meg felt the worry begin to rise. He should have been back already.

"Why am I worrying, if anyone can handle themselves, it's Constable Benton Fraser." The lady Mountie chided herself after she washed her face in the bathroom sink. She laid in bed, alone in the room, wishing she could hear the familiar sound of Ben's regular breathing as he slept on the couch. Somewhere near dawn, Meg finally fell asleep. Her dreams were abrupt and bizarre.

_**The Engine Room …** _

"If we kill him, she won't give us the blueprints. The only way to get them out of that stubborn, Mountie witch is to leave him alive until later, then we kill them all three and drop their bodies over the side of the ship." Benton woke up to the sound of Markham's voice. Taking mental stock of himself, Ben felt rope biting into his wrists and his feet were bound. The room around him was dimly lit and he could smell chemicals. A linen napkin had been used as a gag.

"I know, but what if he gets loose, what do we do then?" Kyle asked, his voice angry.

"You put a bullet in his knee cap, that'll keep him from getting far." Markham answered. Ben didn't like the way things were shaping up. Every time he went without his Stetson there was dire trouble.

"I think she's dead, you hit her too hard." Kyle said as he came into the pool of light around Ben's feet.

"Nah, her head is harder than that Mountie's any day." Markham's voice moved away.

"Okay, I'll check on them later, they won't wake up for a couple more hours. How are you going to tell that female Mountie we want the blueprints?" Kyle's voice sounded low, as if in the distance.

"Leave the thinking to me, you'll get your cut of the money and then we can go our separate ways, got it?" Markham groused. Kyle swore under his breath. A few moments later Benton heard the sound of a heavy, metal door slamming shut. The Mountie's mind began to race. He had to get loose, to check on Maria and warn Meg.

_**The Next Morning …** _

Meg began to worry when, by six the following morning, Ben still hadn't gotten back to their cabin. A million things ran through her mind as she dressed. Finally, she decided to see if Maria McLeod had seen him.

Agent Markham answered the door after Meg had knocked and called his name for five minutes. By the look in her eye, he knew she'd come about Fraser.

"Hello, to what do I owe this wake up call?" Markham leaned on the door, his dark hair headed in every direction, his eyes bleary.

"Ben hasn't been seen since ten o'clock last night." The lady Mountie clutched her purse in her left hand, the strap run across her body.

"Maybe he went home with someone else last night." Markham responded suggestively. Meg rolled her eyes at him, wishing she could strangle the man.

"Where is Agent McLeod?" Me demanded. She had the feeling she shouldn't have come to Markham's cabin.

"I don't know, I'm her partner, not her keeper. Perhaps when you find your partner you'll find mine." Markham leaned forward, his face only inches from Meg's. She nodded, biting her tongue. Unable to say anything that wouldn't compromise the information Maria had passed on about Markham, Meg turned and walked away.

_**The Bridge …** _

"Captain Matthews," Meg stormed the bridge, her jaw set and her eyes dark as obsidian.

"I tried to stop her, Sir, but she pushed past me." Staff Captain Taylor hustled to keep up with the petite Canadian.

"Inspector Thatcher, RCMP." Meg dug out her credentials and handed them to the fifty-something man standing at the helm.

"Inspector, what's the meaning of this disturbance." Matthew's short, white beard and piercing eyes reminded Meg of a wolverine she'd once seen in the Toronto Zoo.

"I'm here undercover as Candace Southerby, my partner in this assignment has been missing since ten o'clock last night, as is a CSIS agent. They were supposed to meet last night at midnight and neither of them has been seen since." It took quite a bit of explaining or Meg to get the captain to believe her story.

"You believe that one of my porters, Kyle Phillips, and this man, Agent Landon Markham, have them captive somewhere." Matthews summarized, still a bit skeptical. Meg could only nod.

"Sir, I know how all this sounds, I would find me hard to believe as well if I were in your shoes." It was Meg's turn to be in Fraser's shoes for a change.

"We're in the process of docking in Juneau, as soon as the bulk of the passengers have disembarked, I'll send my security team to search the entire ship." Matthews did some quick figuring.

"Isn't there somewhere you could start, somewhere the passengers haven't got access to?" Meg suggested, praying that it wasn't too late.

"Quite right, Taylor, take a security team and start searching the crew quarters, the kitchens, all restricted areas." Taylor nodded and began assembling a team.

"I'm going with you." Meg clung to Taylor's heels.

"I can't have you getting in the way, Inspector." Taylor began. They stared at each other for a moment, gauging the determination of the other.

"He's my subordinate officer, I'm responsible for his safety." He couldn't argue with the spirit and the concern he saw in Meg.

"Take her, Taylor, she'll be an asset." Captain Matthews ordered his right hand man.

"Very well, Sir." The usually jovial officer stood down. "Follow me." He growled slightly. Meg nodded, relieved to be doing something.

_**The Engine Room ….** _

Ben wriggled and squirmed, trying to loosen the ropes binding his hands, instead tightening them. He'd underestimated Markham and Kyle. The metal pipe he'd been tied to was freezing his already blood starved hands and the chill from the cement floor had already pervaded his jeans. In the darkness all the Mountie had to work with was his sense of hearing and smell. From the smell of the space, he knew he and Maria had been locked in a storage room. The sound of the engines told him they were below water level.

"Ouch, what happened?" Maria's voice sounded very faint and somewhere to Ben's right.

"Ms. McLeod, are you alright?" He spoke, trying to gain her attention.

"My head hurts, ohhff, my hands and feet are tied. Where are we?" She sounded on the edge of panic.

"Agent Markham and his middleman, Kyle Phillips, surprised us last night on deck. I believe we are now in a storage room somewhere near the engine room." Ben answered, trying to see anything in the darkness.

"I'm surprised Markham didn't kill us right then." The CSIS agent groaned as she tried to wiggle free.

"He won't kill us, Markham knows that Meg, ah, Inspector Thatcher won't give him the blueprints if we are harmed." He heard a dry, rough chuckle from Maria.

"What is it between you two anyway? She sighed, then coughed.

"I don't believe now is the right time to discuss this. What we need to focus on is freeing ourselves." Ben had answered this question a dozen times, from Ray, Francesca, Lieutenant Welsh, even Diefenbaker.

"Bullshit, Fraser, I can't even feel my hands and I think I'm tied to something behind my back." Maria barked, annoyed at being shut down. "What would you tell Meg Thatcher if she were here now, instead of me."

Ben thought for a moment. There was so much to tell her. He'd only been thinking of what to tell her since before their runaway train experience.

"I would tell her that I care for her." One, short sentence and it sounded so hollow.

"Is that all you'd say, no sweet, 'I love you, Meg', no Shakespearean sonnets?" Maria chuckled dryly, her head spinning with the effort of talking.

"Self expression is not one of my strengths." Ben grimaced. There were so few he felt he could freely be himself around.

"You had better practice, or you may lose her. I've seen the way you two look at each other. I can tell you, she's probably turning this ship upside down looking for you, worried you're dead." Maria leaned back against the wall, shivering. "I've read her personal file, she's lost so much, she's had to be strong for so long she doesn't know how to let her guard down anymore, she doesn't want you to think she's vulnerable, but she is."

"Meg lost her mother when she was quite young, she has nightmares about the car accident." Ben said as if to himself.

"I've read your personal file too you know."

"Yes, I know." Ben chewed on the side of his bottom lip, remembering the most traumatic experience of his young life; the day his own mother died.

"Have you ever told her about your mother?"

"No, I haven't. It didn't seem appropriate." That day would haunt Ben as long as he lived. He'd been so young, his mother's sweet boy.

"When this is over, tell her, it may help the both of you." Maria wondered if he really would.

 ****


	14. Meg to the Rescue

_**The Search …** _

Meg and Taylor started their search in the kitchens. Despite the early hour, people moved to and fro, busy preparing for the lunch and dinner rushes, on top of breakfast. Security officers searched every storage locker, every cooler and cranny. No trace of Ben or Maria was found.

"Where to next?" Meg asked, impatiently hovering around Taylor. Her brown eyes begged him to do something.

"We start at the bottom and work our way up." Taylor answered, his deep voice grave. He thought sure that the Mountie would have turned up before now.

"Lead the way." Meg extended her hand for him to go ahead of her. Taylor nodded, shaking his head as he walked away.

Twenty minutes later, Meg and Taylor, followed by a three man security team, began examining the medical facilities. Clean, white efficiency surrounded them. The staff hadn't seen Kyle, Markham or the other Canadians. Desperation began to well up in Meg. She feared that Markham had tossed Ben and Maria overboard. Ringing from her purse distracted the inspector.

"Hello." She answered, praying it was Ben.

"I have Constable Fraser, if you want to see him again, bring the blueprints to the Violet Bovine Restaurant at one o'clock. I'll tell you where you can find your constable." Markham's voice didn't surprise Meg at all.

"I know it's you, Markham. If anything happens to Constable Fraser the court system won't have to deal with you, I will." She hissed into the phone. Looking up she saw a knowing twinkle in Taylor's eye. The next thing she heard was a dial tone. The lady Mountie gritted her teeth, wishing she could throttle the CSIS agent.

"That was the kidnapper?" Taylor asked rhetorically. Meg simply nodded, gripping the phone until her fingers turned white.

"Where did he say to meet?" The staff captain asked, his mind formulating a plan.

"The Violet Bovine, one o'clock." Meg took a deep breath, trying to maintain her calm. She checked her wrist watch; a quarter past ten.

"A little over two hours." Taylor calculated. That gave them plenty of time to work.

"Anything could happen in two hours." Meg sighed.

"Hey, are you two still alive in there?" Kyle's voice sounded after the metal door opened and closed.

"Mr. Phillips." Ben responded, "You are here to release us I hope." The chances were slim.

"Nope, just here to check on you." Kyle ambled into the room, his white uniform ghostly in the darkness.

"Why are you doing this?" Maria asked, her teeth chattering from being so cold for so long.

"The money, honey." Kyle said flippantly, a grin on his face.

"How do you expect to get off the ship, Inspector Thatcher has alerted the captain by now." Ben pointed out.

"My guy has a way off the ship, captain or not." Kyle shrugged, unhurried, unconcerned.

"You can run, but we will hunt you down." Ben said, his tone menacing. Kyle just smiled.

"Markham got the same message from your girlfriend." It was Ben's turn to smile, his green eyes narrowed. He marveled at her threat, it meant she cared, and that she was worried. Kyle walked away laughing.

_**The Violet Bovine …** _

Meg sat at one of he black clad booths, her hands wringing as she waited for Markham to walk in. Taylor's security team still searched the ship for Maria and Ben. Mostly, Meg wanted to get her hands around Markham's neck.

"Hello, Candace Southerby." The slime ball's voice made Meg jerk when he walked up to her booth, his best, sly grin in place.

"Markham, you traitor." Meg hissed low. Other passengers sat around her, oblivious to the danger that had just showed his face.

"You'd be surprised how easily loyalty is bought." Markham leisurely seated himself opposite Meg, his long, slender fingers laced on the table between them.

"You don't have any loyalty, Markham." Meg leaned forward, her eyes blazing with anger.

"Let's get down to business, where are the blueprints?" Markham leaned back, tiring of Meg's righteous indignation.

"I have them here, where is Constable Fraser and Agent McLeod?" The lady Mountie pulled out a thick wad of papers from her purse.

"Give them to me and I'll make a phone call." Markham pulled out his cellular phone.

"No, not until I hear the conversation." Meg debated her bargaining position. She couldn't let her desperation, her emotions, cripple her. Markham nodded, his thumbs dialing the device quickly.

"Hello, Phillips, I have them." The agent disconnected almost as quickly as he'd connected.

"Now let me have the blueprints, Meg." Markham leaned forward again, his face contorted into a mocking sneer. Meg tossed him the thick wad of papers. Quickly, he slid them into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Where are they?" She demanded loudly. Three of the security team in civilian clothes materialized around the booth. Markham raised one eyebrow.

"I thought this might happen." He lifted a handgun level with the table top, aimed squarely at Meg. Her eyes widened.

"Get up, call these goons off." He ordered, his voice cold. Slowly, Meg slid out of the booth and rose, her hands raised level with her chest.

"I'll be fine, back away slowly." She assured the security team. The three brave men were unsure of what to do. They were more used to dealing with unruly drunks and couples' spats. Markham took her by the arm and, with the handgun slid inside his jacket, still pointed at Meg, they walked slowly out of the restaurant. It was a long walk down the stairs, toward the engine room. The security team followed, one of them on a two-way communication headset with Taylor.

"How do you plan on getting off this boat, Markham?" Meg began racking her brain for possible ways out.

"Don't worry, Meg, you'll be too busy with your boyfriend constable to care." Markham tightened his grip on her forearm, making her draw away in pain. The sound of the engines could be felt as well as heard when they approached the storage room just before the engine room itself. Kyle Phillips unlocked the door for them. Off to the right he flipped on an overhead light, flooding the small space with light for the first time in hours. Ben sat tied to a pipe, his wrists bloody from trying to free himself. Maria sat leaned against the wall, tied to a pipe, nearly unconscious. She was pale.

"Untie them, the first one of you that does something stupid gets shot." Markham snarled, shoving Meg toward Ben. He had a nasty gash along the back of his head that had bled down into his red, flannel shirt.

"Are you alright, Benton?" Meg whispered as she worked out the knot with her short fingernails.

"Yes, it's Ms. McLeod that's in danger. She's been sitting on the cold cement floor all night in that sheer, party frock, I fear she's in shock." Meg turned to look behind her at the agent's limp figure as she untied Ben's feet.

"Shut up and re-tie him, do it right or I put one in his kneecap." Markham pointed the gun at Ben's leg.

"Where do you plan on taking us, you won't get off this ship without a hostage." Ben rubbed his wrists, wincing at the raw meat on either side as he stood up.

"Shut up I said." Markham pushed the muzzle of the gun into the Mountie's shoulder. Kyle Phillips stepped closer, a pipe wrench in his hand. Meg untied Maria McLeod, smacking her face lightly to get a response out of her. The lady Mountie shucked out of her light jacket and put it around Maria's shoulders. She was as limp as a rag doll.

"Stand her up and follow me." Markham took Ben by the forearm and began dragging him toward the door. Kyle brought up the rear, tapping the pipe wrench against the heel of his hand. Ben knew as soon as he made a move to disarm Markham Meg would take the porter. A well aimed elbow to the face and a crushing stomp to the instep of his foot brought Markham down. His handgun went skidding across the floor. Meg dropped Maria against the wall and used the same technique on Kyle Phillips. It wasn't hard to disarm the porter and totally subdue him. Markham on the other hand proved more of a match for Ben. The agent grabbed the front of Ben's shirt and slammed him against the steel door. It was a struggle of strength for the two men, Ben at a slight disadvantage with his hands bound. Meg found Markham's gun.

"Stop Markham, I'll shoot." Meg shouted to be heard clearly. She didn't want him to misunderstand her intentions. Shooting him put Ben in danger if the round passed through. The agent tried to nail her in the face with his elbow but the lady Mountie danced backward, wide of the blow. Ben took the opening, bringing his knee hard against the agent's ribs. He was soon on top of Markham, pinning him to the ground. Maria wobbled to her feet, came up behind the pair and kicked Markham as hard as she could manage in the other side of his ribs. Ben and Meg both looked at her wide eyed in surprise.

"Chauvinist, sleazy, asshole." She pulled Meg's jacket tighter around her shoulders and made her way out of the storage room. The security team came in to find Meg holding the gun on Phillips and Markham groaning on the floor. Taylor took Phillips, handcuffing him with satisfaction.

"Andrews, get a medical team down here, pronto." Taylor barked roughly to one of his team. The staff captain stepped forward, hands out. "Can I have the gun, Inspector Thatcher?" Every muscle was tense as Meg stood on top of Kyle, the safety off and her finger ever so slightly squeezing the trigger. She looked over at Taylor, her shoulders relaxing first. After blinking a time or two, she flipped the safety back on and handed him the weapon, grip first. The other two members of Taylor's team took Markham into custody. Meg began untying the ropes around Ben's wrists as fast as she could. He saw the tears threatening to fall from her dark eyes.

"We need to have the doctor look at these, they could be infected." She let her dark hair hide the tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I'm okay, Inspector." Ben took hold of her fingers. He could barely feel them and what he did feel was how they trembled. Gently, he lifted her chin with the back of his hand to make her look at him. "It's over, Meg." Ben whispered softly. She looked up at him, a huge sigh of relief leaving her shoulders slumped just a bit. One of the medical staff cleared her throat to interrupt them. Taylor took Meg by the elbow and lead her out of the smelly storage room.

"Looks like this had a happy ending. No one was injured." The officer smiled broadly, trying to pull Meg back from the edge of her stress.

"Yes, it did." She straightened up, squaring her shoulders and putting on her 'Inspector Thatcher' face.

"I'll be doing paperwork for the next week, but that's okay." Taylor saw the change in the young woman walking slowly beside him. She seemed more reserved, her features unreadable.

"As will I." She ran her fingers through her silky locks.

 ****


	15. Back to Chicago

_**Juneau, Alaska …** _

Captain Matthews came to the infirmary ward to see Ben and Maria almost before they'd arrived. His pale blue eyes smiled when he saw that both officers were doing well.

"I see you're well on your way to recovery." He put his hand out to shake Ben's hand but thought better of it when he saw the bandages.

"Agent McLeod and I will be ready for duty by morning, Sir." Ben assured him, his green eyes blinking from a sleepless night.

"Take your time, Son." Matthews nodded, smiling jovially. Ben smiled back pleasantly.

"From what Taylor tells me, you are one brave lady, Inspector Thatcher." Meg nodded, standing beside Ben's bed.

"Agent McLeod or Constable Fraser would have done the same in my position, Captain." Thatcher took the compliment gracefully. She gave Ben an almost imperceptible wink.

"Even so, I've called your superior officers to put in a good word for the three of you." The old captain waved a beefy hand and chuckled.

"Alright, my patients both need rest." The doctor, a wiry, middle aged man began shooing Meg and the captain out of his infirmary. Meg turned and waved, wishing she could stay with Ben.

_**The Next Day …** _

Meg packed the last of her things in her suitcase slowly, part of her wishing they didn't have to leave so soon. They were flying from Juneau, Alaska back to Chicago after finishing the paperwork for the cruise line and the Alaskan authorities. The Canadian paperwork would be waiting for them in Chicago.

She'd been quiet since the fight with Markham and Phillips. She'd spent the night thinking about this trip and how it had made her feel. She missed the easy way she and Ben got along while they were undercover.

Ben walked out of the bathroom, his shaving kit in one hand. The bandaging around his wrists itched but every time he started to take it off Meg had glared at him. He wished she'd say something instead of burying her feelings. Of course he supposed he could start the ball rolling.

"Sir, you left a few things in the bathroom." He spoke to break the silence. Meg looked up at him, surprised to hear anyone so close.

"Please, call me 'Meg', until we get back to Chicago." She sounded tired. Ben knew she hadn't slept much the previous night. He'd stayed awake a while, listening, should she need him. Part of him had hoped she would. He wanted an excuse to hold her again.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about, Meg?" Ben toyed with the zipper of the leather case his father had given him after his sixteenth birthday.

"What would talking accomplish, Fraser?" She kept her gaze on her suitcase. Ben tossed his shaving kit down on the couch and took hold of Meg's hands, making her look at him.

"It isn't your fault." She looked at him sharply, her dark eyes narrowed.

"I'm not in the mood for this, Fraser." Some of the old formality had crept back into her tone. "I know that Agent McLeod was sloppy, that's why Markham ambushed you." When he still held her hands Meg sighed.

"Your mother's death wasn't your fault, my capture wasn't your fault."

Meg pulled away from him, anger in her eyes.

"We should be leaving, the captain wants to see us before we disembark." The lady Mountie went back to her suitcase.

"Stop, Meg." Ben took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him.

"What, Fraser, what? I watched my mother burn to death in a car fire, screaming my name. My father couldn't look at me afterward. He died when I was a teenager." Tears began to gather in her eyes as she stood in front of him. "I am the way I am because I have had to be." The first of the tears began to fall like crystal streams down her cheeks. "Everyone I have cared for has left me."

"I'm right here." Ben pulled her against him, wrapping his arms like a life line around her. At first Meg pushed him away, trying to regain her equilibrium. When he wouldn't let go she caved in, sobbing against his chest. She felt like a lost, little girl. Survivor's guilt had twisted her insides until she felt like she'd choke if she thought about it all.

"I don't want to go back to Chicago, back to 'Inspector Margaret Thatcher'." Meg sighed after she'd cried the worst of her hurt away.

"Don't." Ben pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. His arms felt comforting, circling her as she took in his scent and the feel of the soft material of his maroon, button down shirt against her cheek.

"She's the only way I know how to get the job done, to get the respect I deserve. I've worked hard for my rank, my position." Meg didn't mention all the catty remarks, innuendos, and inappropriate overtures over the years. After a while the shell she'd formed deflected most of those.

"Your work speaks for itself." Ben ran his hand through her dark, silky hair, his thumb tracing the edge of her cheekbone. Meg looked up into his eyes. She saw a gentleness and faith she'd rarely seen in anyone. She admired him for those qualities. Gently, Ben's lips met Meg's. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of kissing him again. The lady Mountie didn't know how she'd lived so long without kissing him. She lamented to herself that it would be the last, intimate moment they would likely ever share. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks. Ben tasted the salt on her lips.

"What's wrong, Meg?" He studied her features for a moment, his hand still cradling her cheek.

"This isn't fair, to either of us." She pulled his hand away, distancing herself from him. He looked at her, puzzled. "I desperately want two things. If I chose one I lose the other." She shrugged, tired of everything, her guilt, her drive, and especially her loneliness.

Ben knew exactly what she meant about choosing one and losing the other. It was the nature of the rules they'd sworn to obey and enforce as RCMP officers.

"You won't be a Mountie until the end of your days, Son, chose wisely." Ben saw his father's ghost fade away in the doorway as he looked over Meg's head. He smiled and looked down at her again.

"You don't have to chose today." He gave her a long, passionate kiss, something to remember him by.

_**Back in Chicago …** _

Turnbull was ecstatic to see Ben and Meg when they arrived the following day at their usual times. He had baked celebratory cupcakes with cream cheese icing and sprinkles. With coffee they were divine, even Meg admitted that. Diefenbaker was allowed a cupcake without the icing but he turned his nose up at it, until a few hours later when his greed got the better of him.

Francesca had nearly had a fit over Fraser when she saw the bandages on his wrists. He'd tried to keep his cuffs pulled down to hide them but they itched. Diefenbaker rolled his eyes and snorted when she began babbling on about the bandages. Ben had shot him a reprimanding glare.

Ray K grinned like a possum when Ben walked back into the precinct.

"How did a week with the Ice Princess go? Did she leave a new iceberg floatin' off somewhere?" The lanky detective saw the way his unofficial partner's ears began turning red. Something had happened on that boat.

"Inspector Thatcher and I were busy trying to establish the identity of the middle man. Agent Markham used his position to manipulate us, attempting to hand the plans off to a Russian mobster." Ben summed the plot up.

"Turnbull said that you and the other agent were ambushed?" Ray said, fishing for more information.

"Yes, Markham and Phillips, the middle men, locked myself and Agent McLeod in a storage room until Inspector Thatcher gave him the information. She was instrumental in apprehending both men." The Mountie gestured as he talked, his hands as expressive as his features.

"What's she look like?" Ray asked, wishing he had been able to go with them.

"Agent McLeod?" Ben tried to remember what Maria had looked like.

"Yea, I bet she was a dog." Ray tipped his coffee back, his eyes shining with giddy curiosity.

"She would be considered attractive I suppose." Ray rolled his eyes, "Agent McLeod was approximately five feet, nine inches, long, brown hair, hazel eyes." The Mountie tried to think of the best way to describe her figure.

"Did she look something like this?" A familiar, female voice came out of the din of the precinct bull pen. Ray's eyes nearly fell out of his head when he saw the CSIS agent. He immediately wanted to follow her around like a lap dog.

"Good afternoon, Agent McLeod. Allow me to introduce you to Detective ..."

"Call me Ray, or just call me, I'll answer to anything." Ray stood up, grinning like a drooling high school boy. Maria laughed. That was one of the most unique pick-up lines she'd heard.

"Hello, Ray," Maria shook hands, her eyes taking in the blond detective appreciatively. He was a lot easier to read than the handsome Mountie. Her smile lingered as did her hand in his.

"They told me at your consulate that I could find you here." The agent finally came back to her purpose for coming to the precinct. Ben lifted his brows in question.

"I've got more paperwork for you to sign, it can't be faxed and they need it for Markham's case." Maria pulled a manilla envelope out of a large shoulder bag. Ray stood as close to her as he could get by with and not be rude. The simple, brown, cotton blouse she wore with a dark khaki skirt and sandals complimented her fair skin and reddish-brown hair. She toyed with a silver cross at her neck as she waited for Ben to sign the papers.

"Here you are, Agent McLeod." Ben handed the envelope back, waving it to get her attention. A fraction embarrassed, she took the paperwork.

"Hey, mind if I walk you out?" Ray popped out eagerly. He liked the way she smiled as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Yes, that would be nice." Together they walked out of the bull pen and disappeared. Ben leaned on Ray's desk, shaking his head. After a few minutes he left Ray a note saying he'd gone to the consulate for the evening.

****

If Meg had to fill out one more form she thought she'd put her head out the window and scream like a mad woman. By the time dinner time rolled around she was ready to shoot Markham for causing her this much fuss. Pushing her chair back from the desk, Meg picked up the phone and dialed her favorite Chinese restaurant. She ordered her usual take-out and leaned back to wait. The sound of the front door closing caught her attention. It was rather soon for the delivery boy but Meg got up to check anyway.

"What did Francesca feed you? If you walked any slower I'd think I had a cat instead of a top of the food chain, Arctic wolf." Ben's voice sounded exasperated. He walked by the office door just as Meg arrived at the door frame.

"Oh, Fraser, I thought it was the delivery boy." Meg turned to leave. Dief looked up at his human and nudged him. Ben nodded.

"A late dinner?" Ben brushed lint off of his Stetson, his usual, pleasant expression on his features. Meg saw through the mask.

"Yes, crab rangoon, General Tso's chicken." She shrugged, her hands clasped in front of her primly.

"Care to eat Dutch?" the Mountie suggested. He saw the hesitation in her eyes. Would it be improper? Would he read into it? They'd been distant since boarding the plane back.

"I'd like that." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Meg felt like a teenage girl talking to her first crush. Ben seemed out of his comfort zone as well. That relieved Meg a bit. Not sure how to proceed, they stood awkwardly in the hallway.

Knocking at the door broke the tension between them. Thankful, Ben answered the door. A teenage delivery boy in a Li's Panda Hut shirt and baseball cap greeted him. Ben dug out his money from his Stetson and paid the young man.

"I thought it was supposed to be Dutch?" Meg asked, her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Ben smiled like an innocent, little boy.

"You can pay me back." He handed her the bag of take-out boxes. Meg lead them into her office and sat down at her desk. Ben seemed so far away sitting across the desk from her. Meg got back up and took a seat beside him. With a coy smile she handed him a set of chopsticks and dug into her container of crab rangoon.

"Did Maria McLeod find you at the precinct?" Meg searched for something to make conversation about.

"Yes, she did. She and Ray hit it off." Ben relayed the whole scene of their meeting. Meg laughed, the first time since leaving the ship. Ben enjoyed the hearty sound of her laughter. He thought to himself that he could get used to hearing it.

For a time, Ben and Meg re-captured the brief, wonderful time they'd had on the  _Alaskan Queen_. Those fleeting days were something both of them would always remember fondly.

The End

 


End file.
